


The Dawn of Ice and Fire

by Echojayden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-22 07:24:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 22,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Echojayden/pseuds/Echojayden
Summary: Jon Targareyn is born a day earlier at the Tower of Joy. Lyanna Stark entrusts the baby boy to Ser Arthur Dayne, who has no idea or plans on what to do, but vows to keep the young prince safe. Knowing that the boy will not be safe in Westeros, he flees across the Narrow Sea to Essos, hoping to train the boy so that one day he might be able to take back his father's throne...





	1. Jon

The seas were calm as their ship glided effortlessly through the water, the sky clear and blue without a cloud in sight. Jon stood at the stern of the ship, watching the waters they left behind, and the horizon which continued on forever. He could hear the crew working on deck, the laughter of the noblemen and women who were taking in the delight of the good weather and also the clash of steel as two men sparred for training.

He'd grown used to the sea, to the routine of this life even if it had only been for a mere month. There was a calming peace he'd attained from his time spent here, and Jon was sad that it would leave soon. And he was anxious for what would come next. Arthur hadn't told him much of what was coming, only that this was what all their training and preparations was meant for. His life was beginning, apparently. His life outside of the shadows.

Somebody yelled on the deck, and Jon turned to see why. He couldn't help but crack a smile when he saw the scene, his view slightly obstructed as he stood at the back of the ship, but it was not hard to come to understand what had happened.

Arthur Dayne held his practice sword at the man on the floor, pointing the tip at his chest. The man, a great beast of muscle whose head shined without a speck of hair, grunted at the legend, standing by himself even after Arthur offered him a hand. He said nothing to the knight, only walking away, shoulders slumped, bruises bare on his body.

If only he knew who he tried to beat. Jon had been taught all the legends of Westeros as apart of his education as a boy. Arthur never enjoyed talking about himself, or of all the tales of his Knighthood, but Jon relished them when they came up. When he got to see the Knight in action he couldn't help but get excited. It was like a tale of old bearing itself in reality, and everything he had learned came bubbling up to the forefront of his mind.

Jon took the steps up to the deck, watching Arthur Dayne slip the practice sword in a sword rack with the others, before fastening his own sword, his real sword, to his back. The noblemen and women on deck were all looking at him, curious and eyes wide in amazement. That was the usual response when anyone got a good look at the man's sword skills. Jon wondered how they would react if they knew who the man really was.

When the Knight saw Jon coming closer he nodded, smiling.

'There you are, boy.' He said. 'I thought you had run off with one of the girls underdeck. You should be careful with them, you don't know what secrets they may try and pull from you.'

Jon felt his cheeks grow warm. He didn't know what to say.

'Come now, boy. I'm only playing. But don't think I don't notice what you do. My eye is forever perceptive.'

Jon rolled his eyes. 'Yes, yes. As you say.'

The Knight grinned. 'Don't believe me? You shouldn't take my boasts lightly, boy. Remember that tourney in Myr?'

Jon rested his back against the railings of the ship. 'That was luck. Dumb luck.'

'Fighting ten men doesn't take luck, Jon. Neither does fighting you.' Arthur laughed, a deep and warm sound that brought many fond memories through the years.

'You say that now, but just you wait. Tales will be told of me through all the lands. From Braavos to Lys, people will know my name!' Jon grinned, knowing that his own boasting always annoyed the Knight. But a grin kept on the man's lips. He must be in a good mood.

'Ah yes, of course. The boy slain by a village imp. It'll be a story told for generations.'

Jon shook his head, laughing with the man. He turned after to look out to the sea, past the water and towards the grand city which was beginning to show itself. Arthur had told him about Pentos before they embarked on the journey, saying that he'd never seen it himself actually.

The Knight approached the railing and turned to look out towards it as well, the two of them falling into silence.

But Jon was still curious, his satiety for answers never quenched.

'Why are we going to Pentos? You still haven't said.'

'I already told you. To begin the journey we've been training for.'

'But what does that mean, Arthur? What have we been training for? I know you give me details here and there, but why the secrecy? Why not tell me now if it's so close?'

Arthur Dayne sighed, staring out past the water. 'It's too much pressure to put on a boy, you have to understand. You will know soon enough. But it might be best to hear it from someone with more...experience.'

'But I'm not a boy anymore. I'm a man now. My sixteenth name-day has come and pass.'

Arthur looked at him, purple eyes glowing in the sunlight. 'A name day does not make one a man, best you remember that. Besides, when we get to Pentos all will be explained. Explained by better men than me.'

'There is no better man than you, Arthur.'

The Knight smiled, almost sadly. 'Kind of you to say, Jon. But there are better men at explaining these types of things. I've never been one for talking. I have found I am only good at talking with my blade.'

Jon frowned, wondering why he was being so stubborn, before moving from the railing and towards the swords. He took a practice sword out, turning towards Arthur and aiming it at him, taunting.

'Well if that's how you'll be, come then.'

Arthur Dayne grinned, considering the proposition for a second, before approaching and sliding his own sword out of the rack. Everyone on deck glanced at the scene, the crew and the nobles, even the captain at the bow of the ship was taking time off navigating to steal a peek. Arthur had been sparring with men the entire time they'd been on the ship. He always said not training was to the body like a sword left to rust. "Leave a sword in it's scabbard long enough, Jon, and it'll grow dull and blunt. Think the same in regards to your body, and you will never grow weak".

They stood apart from one another, their stances mimicking each other besides a few adjustments. But before they could start Jon spoke, making sure this fight wasn't for nothing.

'But we must place a bet.' He said, seeing Arthur's smirk drop. 'If I win, you have to tell me everything. Everything about why we're going to Pentos. And why we have been training all these years. And…' Jon faltered for a moment. '...and who my parents are. You say you knew my father. And my mother. But you've never told me who they were. Or what happened to them.'

Arthur frowned, peering at the ground for a second before meeting Jon's eyes. 'This will all be answered in time.'

'But I want you to tell me.' Jon took a moment to collect himself. 'I wish to hear it from you.'

Arthur nodded, sadly. Before smirking. 'Then I suppose you will have to defeat me.'

Jon smiled, distancing himself from the thoughts of his parents. 'I suppose so.'

They took an honorary bow before the sparring match commenced, and then they readied themselves in but a moment. Jon often felt fear when he went up against the Knight. Not because he feared defeat, although that was the case in all their matches before. No, he feared he might disappoint his mentor, not live up to the expectations the man had for him. He wanted to show that all this time training was not wasted, that Jon had been learning through these years. That Jon was capable of protecting himself. And now he had more of a reason to show this to the man.

He not only hunted for approval, but now hunted also for truth.

Arthur struck first, as he always did, moving forward with a quick step and slicing at his chest, which Jon avoided easily by pushing backwards, keeping his sword in place in case of any other attacks. But the Knight left himself open, baiting the boy to strike which he did but only with a simple stab, making sure to not overextend himself. He knew the Knight's game, how he got those to fall into his trap and how he overpowered even the largest of enemies. Of course now Arthur Dayne could have pushed on and defeated Jon in a matter of seconds. But that was not his way in these matches, as he relied more on trickery than anything else. And that's why Jon had a chance, as long as everything went right for him.

The Knight parried his stab, their swords clashing for a second before Arthur's was slicing towards Jon's arm, so quick that the boy barely had time to register the move. But his reflexes kept him out of harm's way, and he spun away from the attack. He heard a few claps from their small audience, and he couldn't help but smile.

'Don't get too cocky, boy.' Arthur grinned. 'You'll be on your butt in a few minutes.'

'We'll have to see about that.' Jon smirked.

They danced around each other, swords snapping at each other and echoing hollow steel,their grunts becoming louder with each move. Their steps delicate and graceful, their feints common and lightning quick. Jon could see that the Knight was struggling, if only a little, to keep up with him. Only a bit more, he thought, trying to tire the man. Jon couldn't beat Ser Arthur Dayne in a regular sword fight, but he might just be able to outlast him.

Jon kept moving, never staying in one place for too long and he could see Arthur was starting to get annoyed, each step a bit more slow than the last, each lunge he made not as quick. However he was still far more skilled, so much more Jon struggled to keep up. No matter how slow Arthur's slices and stabs were they continued to keep him unbalanced, and Jon realised soon that he wouldn't be able to keep up this dance, that he would eventually have to start making his own precise attacks to keep in the game.

'Stop running and fight!' Arthur bellowed, a smile on his lips.

'If I did that I wouldn't win this bet!' Jon ducked underneath Arthur's attack as he sliced the air above him and finally went for his own move, trying to stab as his unguarded back. But Arthur was far too quick and he parried the sword, their swords clanging together, before raising his sword up for another attack.

Jon instinctively went to block, raising his own sword in response, but he saw his mistake too late. Arthur had feinted, pretending that he would attack overhead, but at the last moment changed directions and instead he moved his sword towards Jon's chest. The boy couldn't do anything about it.

The blunt edge of the sword hit and sent him to the ground, the sharp pain reverberating through his body and he couldn't help but cry out. He sprawled across the deck. If he hadn't been wearing his padded armor the pain would have been much worse.

Ser Arthur Dayne quickly approached and pointed his sword close to Jon's neck, standing above him.

'Do you accept defeat?' The Knight asked.

Jon was wincing from the pain, and with some difficulty he said. 'Can't do much now, can I?'

The Knight made a small shrug. 'I suppose not.'

Arthur helped the boy to his feet, a hand grasping his forearm and the other his shoulder, and for a few seconds they were showered with applause. The Knight laughing took a bow, and Jon grinning bowed as well. He rubbed his chest, the pain still emanating, as they sheathed their swords back on the rack.

'I suppose you will have to wait till Pentos now.'

Jon sighed, glancing over to the growing city, already able to see the people rushing along on the port and the crowds that laid within.

'I suppose so.' He couldn't help but brood over his defeat. He thought he might be able to defeat Arthur this time. He'd sparred with the man so many times over the years he would have thought that by now he would have understood all his moves. But it always seemed to Jon that whenever he thought he had the old Knight figured out he would always pull something else out of his bag of tricks. Jon was starting to believe that he'd barely seen even half of it, and that beating him was an impossibility at this point.

Arthur must have noticed the expression on his face, because his tone softened. 'You're getting better, Jon. I can see it. You're a more than capable swordsman.' He looked away for a brief moment, before returning his gaze. 'And I'm sorry I could not tell you everything. I believe it would be better if you heard it from the people at Pentos. The people we will be meeting.'

Jon looked at him. 'Can you at least tell me who we're meeting?'

Arthur paused for a moment, and Jon thought he would deny him once more, but thankfully allowed him this.

'We're meeting a Magister of the city, a man who is a rich merchant for lack of a better word. The Magisters control the city and most of it's trade.'

He thought for a moment, not knowing what to say. 'He sounds...powerful.

A glimmer of a smile passed on the Knight's lips. 'Yes, well. He's have been waiting a long time to meet you.'

Jon frowned. 'Why?'

Arthur Dayne smiled, that sad smile which revealed itself at times. 'You'll find out soon enough, Jon. You'll find out soon enough.'


	2. Daenerys

'We have a guest coming today.' Illyrio Mopatis told them over breakfast; a feast of honeyed ham, figs sprinkled with crushed nuts, baked apples and fruit, cooked venison which Daenerys had seen at dinner yesterday and even lemon pie and sweetbreads. The Magister was helping himself to most of the sweets, while Viserys picked at the ham. Dany had nothing on her plate, and she was thankful that nobody seemed to notice or care.

'Interesting. Or, it's interesting that you believed we would care.' Viserys cut deep into his ham with a viciousness that made Dany flinch. They had an argument last night, about why they had come here, about going back home. It had gone long into the night, and her brother's temper still seemed to be sour. The bruising on her arms and back had also yet to disappear, and it still hurt whenever she leaned back.

Illyrio Mopatis smiled, a crumb of pie sticking at the fork of his yellow beard.

'Oh, I believe you might. I hadn't the chance to tell you this just yet, but did you know that you two aren't the only Targaryens who managed to escape Westeros?'

Viserys had a mouthful of ham in his mouth as he spoke. 'Ah yes, of course. I'm sure there are a host of Targaryens just milling around the known world.' He waved his fork in the air. 'Is that your game here, Mopatis? Are you going to shower us with new brothers and sisters who have never been known before?' Viserys took another strike into his meat. Dany flinched.

The Magister kept his calm demeanor, the smile not fading from his lips. 'No, not a host of Targaryens, unfortunately. But there is one. A nephew of yours.'

Now Viserys put the knife and fork down, brows furrowed, and he turned towards Illyrio.

'You're being serious?'

'Yes, very. And this nephew of yours, well...we found him. He's coming now. As our esteemed guest.'

Viserys looked around the room, like he was expecting someone to come out and say that they were playing a joke on him. When no one came, he gripped one of the knives once more.

'You can't be serious.' His voice was a whine, an annoying whine. 'There are no other Targaryens. We're the last of this dynasty. Us! Everyone else was killed, slaughtered at the Red Keep.' Viserys tapped his finger on the oak table, trying to make a point. 'That's what has been said for years.'

Illyrio Mopatis shrugged, an innocent look on his face like he didn't know how to explain it. Like he hadn't known the truth all along. 'I don't know what to tell you except that you do indeed have a nephew. He's being accompanied by a knight, an honourable knight who I assure you wouldn't lie of such a thing.'

'But how can you be sure, hm? How can you be sure he's a Targaryen?'

Dany could see the redness in her brother's cheeks, the veins on his neck popping and both hands clenched into fists. You don't want to wake the dragon, do you? The thought made her look away, and she slumped slightly in her chair.

'We'll just have to see, Viserys. He'll be coming soon, I assure you.'

Viserys snorted, standing. 'I don't want to see some pretender, some impersonator of my family. Just who do you think you are?'

'A man who wants nothing but the best for you. And your family.' The way the Magister glanced at Dany, his eyes intense and his smile broad, made her squirm in her seat. She looked away, down at her hands, shaking her head a little.

'I will not have this, you fool! I will not!'

'Viserys,' Dany said. 'Please let's go back to our room.' Her words were barely a whisper when compared to her brother's sharp and piercing voice. He turned on her, looking like he might slap her, hand twitching, but when he caught notice of the Unsullied who guarded the dining room, and Illyrio Mopatis's expression which had finally broken to a frown, Viserys decided to stay his hand.

'Yes, that might be best, Viserys. Perhaps a cool bath will calm you down. I will have my servants prepare one for you.' Illyrio made a gesture with his hand and two girls who had been standing by, bronze collars strapped around their neck, hurried away through the door.

Viserys watched the girls flitter away, before staring hard the Magister. 'I am not some slave of yours whom you can command, Illyrio. I am of the House Targaryen, rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. This is not how I should be treated.'

Illyrio nodded, clasping both hands in front of him. 'You are not my slave, you are very right Viserys. But don't you think it best to clean before this meeting, to show your kin that you are a strong and powerful man? Plus, the girls will clean you appropriately, wherever you please my young prince. I picked them especially for you.'

Viserys face softened a little, and he glanced at the door the two slave girls had passed through. His frown hardened however before he said, 'Yes, maybe it might be best. This nephew, as you say, should know the type of authority I hold. I can't approach him dressed in filth. I will see you both in a moment.'

'Take all the time you need, my prince.' Illyrio said, bowing his head before Viserys took off through the Magister's manse.

Dany began to stand, hoping to return to her room to wait this all out, thinking that she could read a book from the pile Illyrio had gifted her, but the Magister's eyes were on her, his smile light but there was something dangerous hidden underneath.

'I was actually hoping to speak to you, Daenerys.' Illyrio Mopatis said as he started to nibble at his pie. 'Now that Viserys is gone, we may be able to speak.'

Dany froze for a second, before nodding and sitting back down. Her eyes kept to her empty plate, hands clasped together as she tried not to fidget.

'I can see that you haven't eaten today.'

Dany nodded slowly. 'I wasn't hungry.'

'Does it have anything to do with your argument with your brother last night?'

Dany stared up at him, eyes wide.

The Magister's smiled widened. 'Don't worry, my dear. Viserys's voice can carry across even the greatest of palaces. I am sorry to hear he is providing you with worry and anguish. But he will not be for long.'

She frowned, glancing up at Illyrio. 'What do you mean?'

'The wheels are turning in Westeros.' The Magister's voice grew deeper, with such sudden change it was like he'd thrown off the facade he had been wearing before. 'War is brewing, even now as we speak. Do you wish to go home, Dany? Do you wish to fight for your ancestral home?'

She wanted to go home. Desperately, more than anything. But home was in Braavos, the house with the red door where Ser Willem cared for them for years. She had never seen Westeros, the land not even holding a memory in her mind as she left when she was born. She knew nothing of the place, nothing of the people. However, still her heart always quickened at the name, as if it were pulling at an ancestral desire which laid within all Targaryens. Though she still wasn't completely sure how she felt about the future or where she wanted to go, if she was being honest.

But she nodded all the same, eyes still locked at her feet.

'Good. Because you will need to. There will be many compromises, Daenerys of House Targaryen. Many sacrifices. Are you willing to make sacrifices for your cause?'

Dany once more nodded, not knowing if it was the truth but she wanted to be strong. And not for the Magister, then for herself. Viserys had been talking about taking back the Kingdoms all his life, but never really making an effort to do so. Dany didn't want to be like her brother. She wanted to be better than him.

'Good, good. Just know that in war alliances are what turn the tides of battle. Alliances provide gold, armies, power. And marriage alliances are the very best kind of alliances. Do you understand?'

Dany frowned, sinking a bit deeper into her seat. Viserys always talked about marriage, how that when she was older she would have to marry a King or a Prince of one of the free cities, and that was how they would be able to reclaim their throne, their birthright. Daenerys never liked the idea of being forced to marry someone else, the idea of love in the books she read being a much better alternative. But she wasn't sure she had a choice in this matter.

Daenerys Targaryen nodded again.

The Magister smiled as he took another bite of his pie, seeming to relish the taste.

'We shall talk more on this subject later,' Illyrio said. 'After we've met your nephew, and determined his legitimacy. Dark storms are coming, Dany. But I can promise you that I will always be here for the Targaryen family, to help and aid in anyway I can.'

In the deep clutches of her heart and mind, where her instincts laid bare, the place which she believed her best decisions were made and her true feelings were revealed, Dany somehow knew that the Magister was lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for your kind words! I hope you enjoyed the chapter!


	3. Jon II

The cobblestone streets were lined with merchants and traders and the odd beggar or two holding their hands out, hoping for the charity of at least one man or woman that passed. The streets were taken up by a compact crowd, making it hard to move through the crevices of space through the people and the hot sun only made it harder as it bore down on them unrelentingly. The smell of sweat and spices and steel being forged not too far away continued to fill the air, in such a way only a city could.

Jon had been to many cities on their travels, all across Essos. But each had it's own atmosphere which separated itself from the pack, it's own unique and distinct flavors. He found that to be the best part of arriving somewhere new; being able to probe and search for the underlying traits that made the city stand apart from everywhere else. Although he doubted he would have the time, or even the pleasure to do so here.

Ser Arthur Dayne lead from the front, making sure Jon made it through the crowd, parting the way for him at times, and the boy could sense that he was nervous. And whenever the knight grew nervous Jon did too, and he was becoming eager to escape this place, or be done with whatever they had to do.

He adjusted the strap of his bag as they moved, feeling the weight heavy on his back and chest. Their sparring match didn't do much to help his strength, and Jon was now wishing he hadn't partaken in the fight.  _I knew I was going to lose anyway,_  the thought lingered in his head.

They climbed a steep hill as they continued, the crowd dispersing and becoming thinner the longer they climbed. Jon looked around at the sights, seeing taverns in many degrees of upkeep with drunken soldiers and citizens littering the entrance, and he even glimpsed the startings of a brawl as two men argued with slurred words. There were brothels as well, half naked women on the balconies and calling from the window to those who passed by. Jon blushed at the sight, and Arthur glanced back at him with a smile. Although the knight didn't take a look at the women. Not even a peek.

Minutes later, as they continued to walk, they happened upon a great red temple, a woman dressed in a scarlet robe heralding to others in the tongue of Valyrian on the steps of the temple. Arthur walked alongside him as they passed, whispering,

'Careful of these people, Jon. They have a cult going on here. She's a red priest, that woman up there. A horrible religion if I must say. I don't normally care for what people believe in, but these people sacrifice those they deem unworthy. Sacrifice them to their fire god.' The knight said the last words in disgust, shaking his head while peering at the woman on the steps.

Jon understood Valyrian from his time spent with an educator in Volantis. Arthur wanted him to learn the language, and Jon attended the lessons as it seemed very important to the man.  _At least it has some use now._

'The long night arrives soon, my brothers and sisters. We are all connected in this great web of life!' The woman raised her hands out wide, and the crowd grew larger as she spoke. 'We must continue our fight against the cold, we must strive to believe in the light of R'hllor! For the night is dark, and full of terrors.'

'R'hllor?' Jon asked Arthur as the woman's shouts became distant and hard to hear, their feet carrying them away.

The knight nodded. 'Their god. The lord of light, I'm sure they call it. They're crazy fanatics, if you ask me. Believing in a myth that has long since been dead.'

Jon's curiosity piqued. 'What myth?'

Arthur glanced at him, a small smile on his lips. 'Don't trouble yourself, Jon.' He ruffled his hair, but the boy escaped his grasp, frowning. It never ceased to annoy him. 'This isn't what we should be focusing on. What we're here for is what's most important.'

'Yes, but you haven't told me what we're here for.' Jon retorted.

'Soon enough, Jon. Soon enough.'

The boy rolled his eyes, and followed his guardian, his mentor of so many years. He glanced at the knight's back, where his great sword Dawn stayed sheathed, and remembered to a time where he thought Arthur had been his father. It was when he was young, and Jon had gotten used to the idea. But one day, when they were training if Jon's memory served him well, he brought up where his mother was, and the second he did the knight's face slackened.

' _Your mother is dead, Jon.' Ser Arthur said, bending a knee to look him in the eyes. 'And so...so is your father.'_

Jon was only eight at the time. He didn't know how to cope. He had many questions but they went unanswered. He remembers threatening to run away if he didn't say what happened to them, or who they were, or why Arthur was even taking care of him. But the knight continued to remain silent.

Until now. Everything would be answered today. At least Jon hoped.

Soon they were leaving the main section of the city and were heading towards the outskirts, where less people roamed and the noise was considerably lower. Arthur was also quieter than usual, his steps long in stride and Jon at times struggled to keep up.  _Anxious to get this over with,_ Jon thought.  _Maybe he's eager to get rid of me, hand me over to this Magister._ He shook these foul thoughts from his head, but doubt still remained. Arthur wasn't his father. He had no reason to watch over him.  _Then why has he done so for so long?_ That was the question which drove Jon mad some nights. He switched his focus to walking, readjusting his bag once more.

The walk continued for awhile longer, and just as his legs were beginning to tire Arthur stopped. Jon had been staring at his feet for most of the time, and only then did he look up to see the large palace in front of them. Thick brick walls guarded the estate, with iron spikes on the top to, Jon guessed, ward off thieves or intruders. The guards at the entrance were plump, faces smooth like marble without a hint of hair showing itself. They stood without any expression, bronze spiked hats sitting atop their heads.

'Unsullied.' Arthur whispered before they approached. Jon had heard tales of the warrior slaves, but had never expected them to look like this. It was disappointing, in a way.

'Halt!' One of them said in Valyrian as they got closer. 'State your business here.'

'We're here to see Magister Illyrio Mopatis.' Arthur answered.

The Unsullied soldier regarded the knight. 'Does he know you are coming?'

Arthur hesitated for a second, and then said with confidence, like he was announcing a rehearsed line, 'I am a knight from across the narrow sea, from the lands of Westeros, and with me is a boy. I believe the Magister has a great desire to meet this boy.'

The guard considered the words, whispered to his friend beside him, and after a small exchange nodded. 'You are permitted into Master Illyrio Mopatis's manse. A maid waits on the path to escort you to our master. Please, enjoy your stay.' The two Unsullied stood straight, waiting.

Arthur nodded. 'I thank you.'

As the knight began to walk past the archway of the guarded walls Jon found his feet clutching him to one spot, almost like he was frozen. He couldn't say why, but a deep fear had taken hold of his body. He looked up at the palace, not knowing if he wanted to venture in anymore.

Ser Arthur Dayne noticed his ward's stiff movement, and he turned, frowning. 'You wanted to know the truth, did you not?'

Jon paused a moment to think. 'But...what if I don't like the truth. What if after I hear of it, I wished I never did?'

'That is a risk you must take.' The knight said. 'That is a risk we must all take, as we live and breathe.' Ser Arthur held out a hand to the boy. Jon wavered, staring at his guardians hand.  _This is what I want, isn't it? The truth. To know who I am. To know why I'm here._ With a sigh, he took the man's hand.  _This is what I want. This is what I need._

The two men walked past the archway, and deep into Illyrio Mopatis's manse.


	4. Arthur

Illyrio Mopatis was an immense mound of flesh, his stomach poking out the silk robe he wore and already he was sweating from the effort to walk down the steps to reach the courtyard. His oily, yellow beard repulsed Arthur Dayne to no end, but he tried to keep a straight face, for the sake of Jon. Arthur didn't want to openly disrespect anyone in front of the boy. He wanted at the very least to lead a good example.

They sat near a garden pool, two collared slaves, a boy and girl, waving fans onto the fat man to keep him from the heat. The Magister asked the both of them if they needed their own, but they declined. Arthur could see Jon's nervousness spring up as a tremor took one hand and both legs. They sat in silence awhile longer, but he couldn't just sit idly by while his ward waited in torture.

'And so, where exactly are they?' The knight asked Illyrio, the fat man turning while grapes were fed to him. 'The other...Targaryens.' He glimpsed at Jon for a moment, and saw he barely blinked at the name.  _Still in a state of shock,_ Arthur concluded.

'Viserys, the young prince I like to call him, has taken himself to a bath. Daenerys, the beauty as she is known, is rather shy and has kept to her room. I sent someone for her now, do not worry. They will both be arriving soon.'

'Good.' Arthur Dayne paused. 'Good.'

A silence fell between them. Words escaped his grasp, and he started to realise that he had nothing to say to Jon to make this transition better. Not much was explained to him yet, but the boy knew what he was.  _A Targaryen. A true born Targaryen._ Arthur would have to explain all the details later, when they were alone. He wondered if it was better this way, or if he should have told Jon before as he wanted.  _There is no time for regrets. I can only live with my choices._ The boy was at least surrounded by family now, which could prove to make things easier.

Although the knight had seriously debated even coming here a time before. When he held the letter which had been delivered by a hooded man who didn't dare show his face, Arthur was immediately suspicious. When he opened the letter he was surprised to see it was sent by the Spider, the Master of Whisperers in Westeros who now served the Usurper, the pig Robert Baratheon. When he saw the name he had a thought to destroy it right then and there, throw it in a brazier and be done with such thoughts. But, alas, something kept him reading. For whatever Lord Varys was, he still carried an apt mind for politics. And from what the letter said, he wished to help Jon take back his throne.

So now they sat here, waiting for the family Ser Arthur Dayne swore to serve and protect.

'You have black hair,' The Magister said suddenly, eyes on Jon, words muffled as he chewed on his grapes. 'Unlike your father, I'm sure.'

Jon stiffened, glancing at the fat man for a moment before looking down.

'He has black hair, aye.' Arthur took the words for him. 'He takes after...after his mother.' He winced at the words, knew they would cut deep into the boy. But no reaction came of him, his eyes glued to the stone ground, the tremors in his legs and hands subsiding.

'His mother, yes, I would assume so. And who might that be exactly?' Illyrio Mopatis's eyes gleamed in the sun as he looked over to the knight. Arthur coiled a hand into a fist.  _He's playing games with me. With us. He knows who his mother is. He's probably as knowledgeable as the Spider himself._

But Arthur couldn't stay silent. He hoped the Magister would be the one to explain Jon's birth and his heritage, as that would have been much easier for the knight to bear, but it seemed that plan had been thrown out the window.

Arthur took a deep breath in, glancing over at the boy. 'His mother is...Lyanna. A Stark of Winterfell.'

Jon continued not to react, face still slack and blank.

'Ah yes, that must have slipped my mind.' Illyrio Mopatis smiled delightedly, waving his slaves away, who bowed and then quickly fled. The Magister righted himself, a difficult maneuver for the man, his fat jiggling, and leaned closer to the two, eyes narrowed like he was heavily concentrating. 'So this is the true born heir then? Son of Rhaegar and Lyanna, the production of their love. A love that put the current holder of the crown on his throne?'

Ser Arthur Dayne gritted his teeth. He didn't enjoy being made fun of, or the deaths of the ones

he was supposed to protect being taken lightly. This was a dangerous game the Magister was playing, but the knight tried to remain calm.

'If you would like to put it that way, yes.' Arthur glanced at Jon once more, noticing the boy's gaze remained unmoved.

'So the two were in fact, in love?' The Magister's eyebrows shot up, and he leaned back in his seat. 'That is good to hear. All can enjoy a classic love story, and that includes me as well. It's just so sad how it ended, and the catastrophe of war brought by such a pairing…' Illyrio Mopatis trailed off.

The knight hadn't the clue on what the fat man was trying to get at.  _Perhaps he's trying to poke at me, see where my vulnerabilities lay._ This man seemed almost as cunning as the Spider.  _I must tread carefully with this man._

'Yes, it was a tragedy. But we are here not to speak of tragedies, are we? We're here to speak of the future.'

The fat man's eyes gleamed, and a smile came to his lips. 'The future, yes. The future of this once great House, the future of Westeros. It is a much interesting topic than the past, I will admit. But to analyse the future we must understand the past. Don't you agree, ser knight?'

Arthur bowed his head a little, to hide the frustration plain on his face. 'I suppose so.' He muttered.

'And does young Jon here know of the past? Of his family's rich history?'

The knight's jaw clenched, and he wished Jon would say something, or merely glance his way.

'No. The boy doesn't. I have yet to tell him.'

'And why is that, Ser Arthur?' The Magister was enjoying this, even if his expression had turned into a frown, lips barely pouting. This was a mummer's farce, Arthur could tell, and the fat man was putting on a good show.

'I didn't want to put pressure on the boy. Not until he was ready to face it. The legacy his family left behind...it is a burden to know of it. At such a young age, as well.'

'I'm a man.' Jon finally spoke, voice a low grumble. Both hands were coiled in fists, and he turned to the knight. 'I'm a man grown now. And still you didn't tell me. Still you kept this all from me.' The boy's face had gone red, and he shook his head. Jon stood from his seat and paced around the courtyard, not looking back at them.

Arthur went to stand, to try and somehow comfort the boy, but Illyrio Mopatis raised a swollen hand. 'Let him be, Ser Arthur Dayne. He is but a boy. He will learn to deal with this in time, do not worry. But he must have this time for himself. Nothing you can say will make him feel better about this revelation. It is a lot to take in for someone so young.'

Arthur grinded his teeth. 'And you know of how to take care of a child, do you? You think you know him better than I do?'

The Magister pondered this for a moment, taking a grape from the bowl that was left behind and

plopped one into his mouth. 'I know of people, ser knight. I understand how they work. That is how I came to be where I sit, to have what I have. I may not know the minds of children, not to the extent that you may know, but I understand the best actions to commit when it comes to people. It is my job, after all.'

'So you want me to do nothing?'

'For now, yes. Trust me Ser Arthur, it is your best move.'

Arthur raised both eyebrows. 'Trust you? It is hard to trust someone who's a friend of the Spider.'

'Lord Varys, you mean? Yes, he is a slippery one. And so am I. But I ask you then, if you do not trust me or him, why did you come here today?'

Ser Arthur Dayne scratched his chin, glancing over to Jon who had stopped pacing, instead standing at the edge of the courtyard where a railing was built; it overlooked a small hill which provided a view of the city. The knight looked back to the fat man, whose eyes locked with his. 'Because we need your help.'

The Magister grinned. 'Then help you shall receive.'

Time passed slowly, Arthur keeping an eye on Jon who never turned back, but the other Targaryens finally arrived, both together arm in arm. Arthur stood when he caught sight of their descent down the steps, and for a moment he couldn't believe his eyes. Both had silver hair, the boy's going down to his shoulder while the girl's, the young princess Arthur had only heard about in tales and rumors, streamed down her back. They had piercing violet eyes, which for a moment reminded Arthur of home, and the family he left behind in Starfall. He glanced away, painful memories surfacing, before eyeing them again, their steps closer, the nervousness on their face clear.

The prince spoke first, looking from the Magister to Arthur. 'This is the Targaryen you were speaking of, Illyrio?' Viserys asked unsteadily, looking the knight up and down. Arthur caught fear in the prince's eyes.

'No, my prince,' Arthur answered, kneeling. The cold stone touched his knees. 'I am but a servant, a knight. The boy I have brought to meet you today is of your kin. Your nephew.'

The knight glanced behind him to see Jon standing across the courtyard, staring at the newly arrived guests. Staring at his true family.  _How I've waited for this day,_ Arthur reflected. Caring for the boy all his life, he tried his best to be a mentor, to be a guardian. To be family. But there was nothing like knowing another is of your blood, to know where your identity laid.  _And a Targaryen shouldn't be alone in this world._

Jon made small steps closer, eyes glancing at his feet at times, sword hand opening and closing. The knight studied the reactions of the two Targaryens, and saw Viserys no longer looked scared, instead the opposite seemed true. He had straightened his back, chest grown wider, eyes narrowed and he gripped his sister closer, one arm around her. Daenerys "Stormborn", as Arthur had heard she was called, mirrored Jon; her eyes scant touched anyone, instead she studied her feet and the distant garden, although her beauty was plain to see.  _A shy one,_ Arthur concluded.

'A family reunion!' Illyrio Mopatis clapped his hands, fat jiggling underneath his robe. 'How splendid!'

'Yes, splendid indeed.' Viserys said, in a tone that wasn't entirely friendly. Arthur saw his grip around his sister tighten with each step Jon made, and the boy stopped a small distance from his aunt and uncle, eyes beginning to study the two.

There was silence for awhile. Arthur stood on both two feet, coughing uncomfortably, and he tried to think of something to say.

'Daenerys!' The Magister said, thankfully breaking the quiet. 'You and Jon are the same age, I believe. Jon's actually a bit older, is that not right Ser Arthur? You should have plenty to talk about, I'm sure.'

'Yes, Jon is older,' The knight nodded, feeling awkward as three sets of eyes looked at him, only Daenerys's still studying the ground. 'I remember hearing of your birth, princess.' He tried to get her attention, but to no avail. 'A great storm was brewing above Dragonstone during your labor, was it not?'

'There was indeed, what was your name again? Ser Arthur?' Viserys cut in, Daenerys's gaze never meeting the knight's.

Arthur swallowed down a pit of annoyance, and made a small smile. 'Ser Arthur Dayne. I was part of the Kingsguard during your father's reign. I remember your younger days as a child, my prince. Do you not remember me?'

Viserys shook his head, a small smile creeping at the corner of his lips. 'How could I forget the Sword of the Morning? The greatest knight in all of Westeros. At a time, at least. And you say you were Kingsguard to my father, but I remember towards the end of the war you were not there for him. For us. When we had to leave Kings Landing we had only a single knight and foot soldiers. I ask you, Ser Arthur, where were you when your King needed you most?'

Arthur clenched his jaw, trying to chuckle off the anger that was bubbling in his gut. 'I was protecting your nephew, as it happened. I was ordered by your brother, Rhaegar.'

'Ah yes, Rhaegar.' Viserys's eyes flashed with a hatred which seemed like it had been building for years. 'Our lovely brother who destroyed our dynasty in one single stroke of, what would you call it ser knight? Love?' The prince glanced at Jon. 'Lust?'

'Love, I'm sure of it, my prince.' The knight said, bowing his head.

'Even so. A war that killed thousands, over love? Over a woman? What type of persons sends their family into ruin, a whole country into despair over one woman. A whore as well, was she not? She was betrothed to the Usurper who sits on our throne this very moment. She should have kept her promise.'

'That's enough, Viserys.' Illyrio Mopatis said, the warmth gone from his voice; it felt strangely foreign for the fat man.

Viserys stared at Jon, violet eyes meeting grey. He was now pinching Daenerys, the smooth skin on her arm growing pink. Arthur was about to say something, to steady the situation but Viserys made the first move.

'Very sorry, but I am only reminiscing. Providing some history for my nephew here, seeing how he wasn't old enough to experience the war himself, or understand the horrors people had to suffer at the expense of his birth.' The prince smiled, a dark twisted smile.

Arthur wanted to punch him. Slap him across his face, teach him the manners which he sorely lacked from such a mismanaged youth. But he stayed his hand.  _I'm vowed to protect House Targaryen, not treat them to a beating. Even if they might deserve it._

Jon glared at the boy, but didn't speak. The prince chuckled.

'Do you not speak the common tongue, boy? Or were you born with some defect which keeps you from doing so.'

Jon bristled at that, and one hand coiled into a fist. Arthur thought he might attack, and the knight wasn't sure if he would stop it. But the boy, instead of striking out, shook his head. 'No.'

The prince's smiled widened. 'Good. We should have many discussions then, I'm sure. But I'm sorry to say that me and my sister have grown rather wearisome, seeing a long lost family member can cause such mental exhaustion as I'm sure you know.'

Jon kept a moment of silence. 'Sure.' He answered plainly.

'I should see you later then, for dinner maybe.' Viserys looked at Arthur, nodded his head, that smile still on his face. 'And you too, Ser Arthur. Kingsguard to the new Targaryen dynasty.' His eyes gleamed. 'To the new  _King_.'

Arthur nodded back, still pushing the anger down the prince had managed to unravel. 'Goodbye, my prince.'

'Have fun with our guests Illyrio. Please do entertain them.' And with that he turned, taking the steps two at a time. Before they entered the manse Daenerys Targaryen looked back at them, the knight and the grey eyed boy, before disappearing. Arthur turned to look at Jon, who still was fuming, his anger now shown in full display; face so red the knight thought he might explode.

Ser Arthur Dayne glanced at Illyrio Mopatis who could only offer a shrug.

'Yes, I know. We can only thank the heavens that he will be no king.'

 _I sincerely hope so,_ the knight thought, looking at the black haired boy who continued to stare at the doors his family had left through.


	5. Daenerys II

The young princess stared at the mirror. She stared at the violet eyes that stared back, noticing the pale skin of her face, the silver hair which fell over her shoulders and down her back, and the anxious jitter in her hand as she drummed five fingers on the table she sat at.

_Viserys is scared,_ she understood, her reflection smiling.  _Scared that he might no longer be King. Is he the rightful ruler anymore?_ Daenerys could remember dimly from her lessons of politics that the crown always passed down to the first son and so on. Rhaegar had been next in line, and if this  _Jon_ is his son, then he must…

_He's not going to allow it,_ she knew.  _Viserys will eventually do something stupid to keep a semblance of power._ When they were in his room after the meeting he went berserk, throwing his hands up and screaming, and Dany feared he might strike her again, just so he could place the anger somewhere. Thankfully, however, he was too busy ranting.

'That boy will be the death of this house, just like his father!' Viserys paced the room, shaking his head, jaw clenched. 'If Rhaegar even was his father. Did you see his hair? His grey eyes? If he's a Targaryen then I'm a Dothraki horselord.' He continued to pace, stopping for a moment near a vase that stood on a mantle, before striking it down, the ceramic shattering into pieces and the clatter echoing through the room. Dany flinched at the noise, and she continued to hold an expression of fear as Viserys approached in three easy strides, his face suddenly close to hers.

'What do you think of him, dear sister? You're being awfully quiet. Maybe you think him a better fit for king?' Both hands gripped her wrists, keeping her trapped in the chair she sat in.

Dany shook her head, but found it impossible to talk. Fear had clutched her heart and tongue, and she could only stare up at her brother.

'Don't lie to me, sweet sister. Speak your mind. I take your silence as insolence, you do know.'

Daenerys glanced away. 'I'm sorry.'

Viserys looked down on her scrunching his face in disgust. 'I don't need your apologies.' He let her wrists go, turning his back and continuing to pace. 'I need a solution. A solution to this pain of ours.'

_He's our nephew. Another Targaryen. We're not so alone in the world after all,_ she wanted to say. He thought of the boy, how young he was, how they were almost the same age. She remembered his face, and his brooding pout; a natural expression of his. He looked so much different to Viserys, to Dany's reflection in the mirror, but she knew he was one of them. It was a feeling that told her, than anything concrete. However that seemed more than enough.

A knock came at her door and she turned quickly, afraid that she might be caught pondering her reflection.

'Come in.' She said delicately, trying to make her voice louder than a whisper. One of Illyrio's servants passed through the doorway, the girl curtsying before explaining why she was there.

'My lady, you have two guests who wish to see you.'

The door opened wider, and the knight and his boy walked through. Ser Arthur Dayne wasn't what Dany had expected in her mind's eye. She always thought of a knight to be embellished with luxurious armor, gold and silver interlaid within the metal itself and their helms covering the better half of their face; a knight would look more of a sentinel, a standing guard to protect those in need.

However the man who stood before her wore no such things, instead adorning leather armor which looked no different to anything she'd seen before, the only item of note the man carried was the massive sword at his back. Jon looked the same, wearing padded armor, a common blade encircled around his waist.

The knight bowed when he entered. The boy continued to stand straight.

'Princess, I hope we are not bothering you for coming here.' Ser Arthur Dayne said. Dany noticed Jon look around the room, one hand nervously thumbing at the hilt of his sword.  _A shy one,_ she couldn't help but think.

'Please, call me Daenerys.' She said, taking a deep breath in, not wanting to speak too low so they couldn't hear. She stood from her seat and walked over. 'And no, you are not bothering me. I have seldom to do here, in fact. I'm often never busy.'

Arthur Dayne nodded, and then they fell into silence. Dany wondered what they were doing here, why they came to seek her, but didn't have the confidence to ask. She glanced at Jon who in that moment peeked at her. Their eyes quickly darted away.

'I'm supposing you're wondering why we're here.' The knight said, a nervous jitter in his voice. She couldn't blame him, this was a strange situation. But it was still strange to see a knight as tall and strong as him to be anxious in conversation.

'Yes, I suppose so.'

Arthur smiled uneasily. 'We just wanted to come and speak. Talk of the past. Talk of our history. This is the first time Jon...the first time he's ever met a Targaryen.' The knight coughed uneasily and Jon began to shift his weight, foot to foot, staring at the ground. 'This is the first time he's come to know of his family.'

Dany looked at the black haired boy, seeing him in a different light.  _He's never known of his heritage?_ The thought made her think of her own position, and how at times she had wished for the same. Knowing of her family, knowing of the legacy they left behind, was crushing at times. Although the pressure came from Viserys most times; his incessant prodding and ranting, his constant desire to be king. It was their birthright, he would often say. But did they not have a right to be something else? Did they not have the choice to escape their family's shadow?

Daenerys pulled herself from these thoughts, and tried to think of something to say.

'I don't know if I have much knowledge that could help.' Dany said, the words slipping out nervously. 'I know little about our family myself. Only things I've heard from stories and tales.'

'Then perhaps we could talk about you and your brother. And of your journey that has taken you here. I'm guessing you have not always resided in this manse?'

Dany shook her head, biting her lower lip. In truth she didn't want to talk of her past, and of the memories that haunted her. However she couldn't push them out her room now. She waved an arm towards a few seats arranged around an empty fireplace.

'Should we sit?'

It was strange, sitting and speaking with these strangers. It was only strange however, because despite herself Daenerys was actually enjoying it. She hadn't had a real conversation for quite awhile now, nothing that involved her speaking for a long amount of time anyhow, and though in the beginning she found her anxious voice hard to steady, now it was almost natural. The two were easy to talk to, and even Jon was beginning to look at ease, a smile appearing on his lips every now and then.

'You lived in Braavos?' The knight asked, after Dany finished recounting the past. 'How was that? I hear the city is beautiful.'

Dany smiled, thinking of the city which she called home, feeling like it had been a lifetime ago. 'It is a beautiful city, the rumors are true. I remember being scared at times. The city is surrounded by water, you know, and as a young girl I was scared we might sink.' She smiled for a moment, but then lowered her eyes, as thoughts to what had happened there began to bubble up. Ser Willem Darry, the only man she remembered who actually cared for them, and did it not for himself, but because he was kind, came to her mind.  _If only the others had been so kind._ Dany didn't tell them about how Viserys and her had to flee after the knight's death, as the servants they had hired forced them out, stealing all they could from their home. No, Dany instead asked,

'Have you stayed anywhere for long in Essos? Did you ever find a place to call home?'

The knight smirked, shaking his head. 'Unfortunately, no. Me and Jon here are adventurers at heart. We enjoyed travelling around to all the cities, finding what mischief we could find. It was a learning process, really. Our travels.'

Dany frowned, tilting her head to one side. 'What do you mean?'

'Well we learned a lot, exploring Essos. Understanding the culture, seeing the sights. And I had to train Jon to be the man he is today. I didn't want him to learn in some stuffy room all day. And so we took ships to the Free Cities. There's no better way to experience life, I think.'

Jon was glancing away, arms crossed.  _He must not like being talked about._

Ser Arthur Dayne noticed the boy's sour gaze and he elbowed his arm. The boy glared at him.

'Come on, Jon. Speak up. It's just me and Daenerys holding a conversation at the moment.'

Jon shifted in his seat. 'And what would you have me speak about?' His voice had an edge to it.

'Anything. That's the point of conversation. You speak of whatever you want.'

The boy rolled his eyes. 'And what if I would rather speak of nothing?'

'Well I would call you brooding, boring Jon then.' Arthur chuckled, and Dany tried to avoid laughing with him, keeping her smile tight and under wraps.

Jon brooded some more at the small poke of fun, but after a moment he looked like he might speak. Then the door slammed open.

'Daenerys!' A shrill voice called. Steps echoed off the marble floor. Arthur and Jon jumped up in a flash.  _No please don't,_ Dany thought, sighing as she turned. Viserys strode into the room, staring at the three of them, one hand grasping the hilt of his sword in it's scabbard.

'Oh. I didn't realise you were entertaining guests, sweet sister.' A smile kept plain on his face, but his eyes spoke anger, Dany could see. She wondered if the others could too.

'I'm very sorry, my prince.' Arthur said, bowing. 'I didn't mean to intrude. We were only discussing our past, talking of our travels through Essos.'

'Were you, really?' Viserys took a few steps closer, hand still at the hilt.

'Yes, my prince. I was curious about your own travels, and of your journey that has brought you here to Pentos.'

'Well, if that is so, let us speak.' Viserys's smiled widened, and dread set in Dany's heart.  _He means to turn this into a game,_ she knew.  _He turns everything into a game._ He took a seat next to Dany, and she shifted uncomfortably, wishing he had just left.

Arthur studied her brother for a moment, before nodding. Jon and Arthur sat back down, the air in the room having grown still, the quiet uncomfortable, the knowledge of what to say gone in the wind.

'Come on then,' Viserys said, most likely enjoying the uneasiness he brought to the room. 'Speak of what you were talking about before. Or do you not want to, because what you said was a lie.'

The three of them frowned, confused at the same moment.

'What do you mean?' The knight asked.

'I mean, were you not talking about your "travels". Maybe you were speaking of something else. Something you couldn't possibly discuss with me here.' His gaze turned to Jon, the look bitter and angry. 'Don't think I don't know why you're here. Like your sudden arrival doesn't mean anything. I know what you want. I know what you and your pathetic knight strive for.'

Dany's breath caught in her lungs and she saw the knight's hands coil into fists, his jaw clenched, but he didn't make a move. Jon stared at Viserys, face plain and stoic, showing no emotion.

'My prince,' Arthur said, a noticeable strain in his voice. 'Whatever you think is happening here…'

'Yes? Go on? What lie will you spout next? Go on, say you weren't colluding with my sister. Trying to oust me from my rightful throne.'

'Your throne?' Jon finally spoke. He stood, grey eyes staring down at Viserys. 'There is no throne. You are no King. Don't try and get things twisted, just to fulfill whatever story is banging around your head. I didn't know of my family until this day. I didn't know of my parents until this day. And you're scared that I might take your throne?' Jon scoffed, rolling his eyes. 'You're as dumb as you look.'

The tension in the air heightened. Dany could feel it, and she clutched both hands together, looking at Viserys, seeing the redness of his face, the baring of his teeth. She feared the worse would happen. She feared he might use the sword he so heavily grasped with one hand. The room went silent. No one said a word.

'You should leave.' Viserys said, slowly, venom pouring into each word. Jon continued to stare at him, his own jaw clenched, fists as hands. But the knight stood, bowing quickly, and grabbed the boy's arm.

'Let's go, Jon.'

Jon resisted against his pull for a second, but after they exchanged a look, he nodded. Viserys squirmed in his seat, hands now clutching at the ends of the arm rest, as they left the room.

After the door shut close, he struck her.

'You bitch!' He said in a harsh whisper. Daenerys fell from her seat to the marble floor, her breath caught in her lungs. Her brother stood, face constricted into a scowl, one finger pointed at her. 'You dare speak with them! You dare try to take my crown!'

Dany pleaded with him, both arms up to cover her face. 'That's not what was happening, I swear!' She tried to stand but Viserys hit her again. It was a hot sting of pain, and she felt the beginnings of a bruise start to swell at her cheek. Her hands slapped the ground to protect her body, and the pain shot up her arms.

'If I see you speaking to them again, I won't just stop here.' Viserys held his face close to hers, and she turned her gaze away. 'You don't want to wake the dragon, do you?' When she didn't answer he grabbed her chin and forced her to look at him. 'Do you?'

Dany shook her head, tears welling in her eyes. Viserys let her go, and she fell to the floor, sobbing into her arms.

'You're weak,' Her brother said in disgust. 'All women are weak. And you best stay that way.'

She heard his footsteps echo off the marble floor, and soon after heard the door slam shut.  _You're the weak one,_ she thought, rubbing the tears from her eyes. Dany pushed herself up from the floor to stand, the stinging of her cheeks feeling like fire, and as she pressed two fingers to the bruise she recoiled in pain. But for once the pain didn't fuel a sadness deep inside. No, anger instead came frothing to the surface, and she clutched an armrest hard for support.  _You're the weak one, Viserys. And one day...one day I'll show you just how weak you are._


	6. Jon III

‘We’re really just going to do nothing?’ Jon said, looking back at the knight who was behind him, his eyes staring forward, no expression on the man’s face. When Jon heard the shouting and screaming, he had the instinct to rush back in, take out his sword and gut the one the knight called “my prince”. But Arthur had grabbed his arm once more, and Jon tried his best to resist, but the man was too strong, forcing him to continue his way.  

'Jon, don't start.' The knight's face was stoic, like stone.

'What do you mean, "don't start"? You heard that! You know what this "prince" is. You know that he's hitting his own sister!'

Ser Arthur turned to him, stopping in the middle of a hallway, tapestries and paintings hung on the walls. 'Yes, Jon. I know.'

'And still, we'll just stand here and stay quiet? I thought you were a knight. Aren't knights supposed to protect those who can't protect themselves? Or are all those stories you told me of Westeros just a fantasy?'

Arthur winced, but he took a deep breath in, before saying, 'Jon, I know you're angry. But what can I do? Threaten the prince? Slap him around?'

'If that's what stops him from hurting her, then yes.'

Arthur shook his head, looking away. Jon couldn't believe him. Couldn't believe they were having an argument over this. The course of action was clear. It was clear to Jon at least. But the knight was being stubborn. The first time he'd ever been stubborn over helping someone.

'I serve your family. And I cannot demand things from the one's I serve.' The knight said, though he didn’t sound entirely convinced.

Jon crossed his arms, a scowl clear on his face. 'Is that why the mad king killed so many people, then? Is that why so many were burned in the Red Keep, as you have told me? Because you followed your duty, instead of your heart.'

'Don't, Jon.' Ser Arthur Dayne's voice was strained, eyes closed, face tightened into a grimace. 'Don't.'

'What? Does it bring back bad memories? Is it because you know I'm right?' Jon shook his head. 'I really can't believe you, Arthur. I can't believe we're having a conversation over this. We should have stopped him before. Caught him in the act.'

'And then what would you propose?' The knight asked, a hint of anger in his voice. 'If we stopped him, what would we do after? How would we stop him from doing it again?'

'Tell him that we're here now, and by the gods if he ever harms his sister again there will be a price to pay.' He paused, the anger swirling in his stomach, the grinding of his teeth the only thing keeping him sane. 'How long do you think he has been doing this? It's a crime if we allow it to happen, and I know you believe that too.'

Arthur glanced away, eyebrows furrowed into a frown. He took a deep breath in. 'I can't do anything, Jon. I'm a knight, like you said. I serve and protect your family. I can not raise my hand to a member.'

Jon gripped his sword hand into a fist, jaw clenched. 'Then I will.' The boy stalked off, past Arthur and down the hall. When the knight called to him he did not look back. At that moment he could not glance at his mentor's face.  _Everything I thought I knew is a lie,_ Jon thought, clutching the hilt of his sword, continuing his way through the palace.

* * *

The sun was beginning to set. Purple and pink streaked through the sky and clouds, long shadows falling over the city of Pentos, signalling the approach of darkness and night. Jon stood watching over the balcony, from the room Illyrio had provided him.

He'd been standing watch since his spat with Arthur. He didn't want to see the knight, not after his bold display of cowardice, and he needed time to think. Too much had happened on this day, and there hadn't been enough time to understand it.

 _Jon Targaryen,_ the thought lingered in his head, feeling odd and foreign. It was hard to comprehend. He'd learned of all the stories, listened to all the tales of the dragonlords conquering Westeros and forging the Iron Throne, building a dynasty that would last three centuries. He listened to them in awe and amazement. But never once did he think he was apart of it.

 _How could Arthur keep this from me?_ For years he wondered who his parents were, where he came from. It was a missing puzzle piece of his identity, a piece he'd been looking for ever since Arthur admitted he wasn't his father. He always imagined that when he found it, he would feel whole, his whole life finally coming into place. But now that the truth had been revealed, Jon only felt more hollow. It was as if something had been ripped from him. The life he knew before was gone, and instead he had this. The ashes of a dynasty, headed by a boy who hits his own sister.  _And if he does it again, I'll kill him._

The reaction felt strange, but his sword hand gripped the hilt all the same. He felt protective of the girl, as she was his own blood, but he could remember something Arthur had once told him.  _Killing a man changes a person, Jon. You can never go back after doing such a thing. Your tainted in the eyes of the gods for the rest of your life. I hope you will never have to experience such a thing._

He brooded on what to do, hand leaving his sword as he leaned on the balcony edge. Jon stared out across the sea, to the horizon, where over Westeros laid. He wondered what was happening there; how the King governed his people, what wars were being fought at that very moment, and he wondered if anyone even thought of the Targaryens anymore, or were they just lost to the past, like ash gone in the wind.

 _What does it matter?_ Jon sighed, a ghost leaving his lungs.  _What does anything matter?_

'Brooding once more, your grace?' A hidden voice said, making him jump. Jon turned, hand back on the hilt of his sword, but both arms fell to his side after he saw who it was.

Illyrio Mopatis, dressed in golden silk robe, his yellow beard newly oiled, stood at the archway of the terrace, a small smile on his lips.

'Do you ever knock?' Jon asked, a nervous tone in his voice. He didn't even hear the man approach, and it unnerved him to no end.

'I'm sorry, your grace. I did not mean to alarm you. I only wished to speak.' The Magister strode forward onto the balcony, feet making no sound as he fell beside Jon. The boy turned, staring out towards the city, trying not to look awkward or nervous. Arthur had warned him about the man, saying that he wasn't entirely trustworthy, and that he could have other reasons to helping them.  _If that's true, why are we seeking his help?_ Jon hadn't asked the question, because he knew the knight wouldn't have an answer.

They were quiet, Jon waiting for the Magister to say something, but when it was clear that was not coming he cleared his throat and asked, 'And speak about what?'

Illyrio Mopatis's smiled widened, turning. 'About the future, your grace. Your future, and the future of Westeros.'

'Your grace?' Jon cut in, frowning. 'You keep saying that. Isn't that title reserved for Kings?'

The man bowed his head. 'Yes, your grace. And that's exactly what you are.'

Jon's heart quickened, and he stared deep into the city. In the corner of his eye he saw the Magister's face slacken.

'You don't believe the title fits you, then?'

'I don't want any title.' Jon said, watching the sunset. 'I am no King. I have no throne. My father may have been heir to the throne, and that may have passed down to me, but it makes me no King.'

'Yet, your grace. I know for a fact that across the Narrow Sea the common people of Westeros cry out for their true Lord Protector, waiting for the Targaryens to sail West and take back their rightful throne. They drink secret toasts to your health, even knowing that if they were caught they would be flayed and punished. The Targaryen hold power in Westeros, even now.' The man's eyes glimmered. 'You hold power in Westeros, your grace.'

Jon listened to the words, letting them roll through his head, before turning to meet the Magister's gaze. 'I highly doubt that, Magister. If there's anything the citizens of Westeros toast to, it's to full lives for themselves and their children. A war for a throne would make quick use of such a toast.' He looked inside to his room, eyeing the door. 'Excuse me, my lord, but I wish to explore your manse, to clear my mind.'

Illyrio Mopatis bowed, trying to keep a smile but Jon could see the twinges of annoyance on his

features. 'Of course, your grace. Whatever you wish.'

Jon left the man on the terrace, hand gripping the pommel of his sword, the word  _King_ playing over and over in his head.

Jon found himself lost in the hedge maze. He'd seen it on the outskirts of Illyrio's land as he stood on the balcony, and thought of it as the best place to get away from everyone. And if Arthur was thinking of looking for him, he doubted he would search here. But now Jon was lost within the shrubbery and hedges, eyes glancing back and forth, trying to figure out a way out.

With a sigh he continued forward, knowing there was little he could do but hope for the best. He needed to clear his head anyway, was this not why he came out here? To think on the future, like the Magister had said. Illyrio's words came to mind, the title,  _your grace,_ sticking there without his control. He didn't know how he felt about it. How he felt about any of this.

His mind was distracted once more as he heard footsteps in front of him, behind a hedge which stood tall in his way. Jon maneuvered around it, wondering if whoever it was could help him out of here, thinking that it was probably a servant or slave. But when he caught sight of the girl, and her silver hair and purples eyes, Jon stood still in his tracks.

Daenerys Targaryen stood close by, eyes wide, shocked to see him. No one said anything for a few moments. Jon struggled to find something to say.

'What are you doing here?' Daenerys said quickly, the first time he'd heard her speak first.

'I, uh, was taking a walk. Exploring the palace.' Jon made a sheepish grin, scratching the back of his head. He glanced away for a moment, and when he looked back at her he caught sight of the bruise on her cheek, the lasting reminder from her brother. She must have known what he was looking at, because she turned her head to cover it, peering down at her feet. Jon felt the beginnings of the anger he had left behind start to take hold, and he took a few steps towards her.

'Did Viserys do that to you?' He asked, like it wasn't obvious. 'Is he the cause of that bruise on your face?'

The Targaryen girl said nothing, still studying her feet, not meeting his gaze. Jon stood a little closer, suddenly able to smell the perfume and scents surrounding her. 'How long has he been doing this? Has anyone tried to stop him?'

'Please, don't.' She whispered, barely audible.

'Don't what?' Jon frowned.

'Don't try and stop him. It'll only make things worse.' For a second she glanced up at him, meeting his eyes, and his heart quickened, but he didn't know why. And then, without any warning or hesitation, she was off, sprinting down the long corridor of hedges and away from him.

'Wait! Dany!' Jon yelled, shaking his head in frustration before taking off, making sure he didn't lose her.

The maze weaved and turned, becoming an even bigger mystery to Jon, but he managed to keep up with it only because he was following Daenerys. Although when he would come at a new corner, two paths splitting off either way, Jon only managed to keep on track at the sound of the girl's footsteps, or the brief glimpse of her hair through the shrubbery.

She was quick, he managed to gather, finding himself short in breath, the only thing keep him going was his will and desire to not be stuck in this death trap of a maze. And he wanted to speak to her. He wanted to tell her that everything was going to be alright.  _Is that the truth, or just another lie?_

Jon shook his head from all thought, and focused on keeping pace. Soon his legs were getting used to the speed, muscles tensing, a familiar feel for running coming back to him. It had been a while, as being out on sea didn't require much sprinting, but now he was in his element.

Dany wasn't far ahead of him anymore, her silver hair bouncing behind her back as Jon began to catch up. She was barefoot, he just realised, each foot digging into the ground as she ran. But even with the better grip compared to Jon, she couldn't outrun him any longer. He was just behind her, able to hear her short gasps of breath, as they broke out of the maze and into the view of palace.

'Just stop!' Jon said now that they were finally out, and he grabbed one of her arms before she could run off again.

'What!' She screeched, causing Jon to recoil in surprise. She wiggled out of his grasp and he let her, still bewildered by her scream. 'What do you want from me! I know my brother hits me, I know he's not the greatest person in the world. But I don't want you to hurt him. He doesn't deserve that.'

Jon's face scrunched into frustration.  _Does no one want to do the right thing?_ 'And do you deserve the bruises on your face? Or wherever he places them? Do you deserve to be in pain? Answer me that, Daenerys.' Saying her name felt weird on his lips, as it both felt foreign, but somehow familiar.

Dany peered again at the ground, wisps of silver hair falling on her face. Jon had the strange instinct to cup her chin and lift her head so she would look at him, but he fought the urge. Instead he waited until she would meet his gaze. However that didn't come, as she looked comfortable with examining the grass growing at their feet.

Jon sighed, scratching the back of his head. 'Dany, I'm not going to hurt your brother. He deserves it, but I won't. If that's what you want.' He paused, not knowing what to say, so he let his instincts take over. 'You're a...a good person. I know we just met, but I can see that. I won't hurt your brother. But that doesn't mean I'm not going to try and stop him. I won't allow that to happen to my…' Jon paused, swallowing the spit in his mouth. '...to my family. I can't. And I'm sorry Dany. But you're my family now.'

It felt strange saying it. Not just because the girl in front of him was a stranger, but also because saying it was a form of acceptance. Jon realised then he had been resisting it all this time. For some reason he'd come to believe that all of this might just be a trick, or that everyone around him was wrong in their belief that he was a Targaryen. However now it felt real.

Dany continued to study her feet, but then unexpectedly looked up at him, and their eyes met. Purples eyes met grey, and Jon felt lost for a few moments.

A smile played on her lips; a sad smile. Daenerys nodded slowly. 'Okay, Jon.' She said. 'I understand.'

The sky was beginning to darken as they made their way back to the palace, the sun retreating to the place it hid for the night, allowing the darkness to take over. The quiet between them lasted as they walked, but Jon finally felt at peace.


	7. Arthur II

The hot humid air of Pentos surrounded him like a second skin. Even in his room, where the cool stone walls kept the heat at bay, Ser Arthur Dayne sweated like two suns hovered over him. _This summer has been a long one,_ he sighed. _When will it end._

The knight was sitting in a wooden chair, cushioned and decorated with gold and silver, reading a tome; a book which depicted stories of the great knights in Westeros, hand picking the legends and glorifying their tales. The book had been Jon’s favorite when he was young, and he hastened a guess that it was his favorite still. Arthur enjoyed reading the tome every now and then because it reminded him of home; a way to escape to somewhere familiar. _And there’s no better time to escape but now._

Weeks had passed since they arrived at Illyrio’s manse. The days had been long and unfruitful; Lunches and dinners were accommodated by drawn out stares and scowls between Viserys and Jon, constantly picking up on small chides and insults, taking any chance to berate one another. Daenerys and Arthur merely watched the exchanges, the knight coming to understand that he would have to intervene at some point, but for now, while only words were being thrown, he would keep back.

However what was most irritating was the Magister’s vague discussion of plans, and how he expected to help them. Arthur knew the man was trying to butter up Jon; the knight saw the both of them hold short conversations after meals, Jon frowning and scowling like he didn’t want to listen. Ser Arthur wondered what they spoke of, assuming it was the Magister’s plans for Westeros, but he hadn’t the clue on the specifics. Jon was no longer forth willing with that information. Not since the incident with Viserys and Dany.

They met for training with their steel, a good way Arthur found to funnel the boy’s anger, but he didn’t speak much, only brooding over what sat inside his head. _I have to find a way to reach him. To get him to speak to me once more,_ the knight knew. This had happened in this past, but it’d been much simpler as he was younger then. Now, nearly a grown man, the knight feared Jon might resent him forever.

Arthur sighed, shaking his head, putting the book to rest. _Don’t think such things. It’ll do no good._ He thought maybe he should have taken the boy’s side on the matter of Viserys’s abuse. It wasn’t like he agreed with the prince’s actions. But the knight understood what he needed to be; in the middle, the mediator for the whole family. He couldn’t be that if he took sides.

Even if it was the right one.

 _He’ll get over it in time,_ the knight reassured himself. _And I can only speak to him, try to make him understand. There’s nothing else that I can do._

He sat in his seat for awhile longer, pondering the thoughts that grew in his head, before getting up and fastening his sword onto his back, heading for the door. It was almost lunch soon, and Illyrio had said he had news from Westeros that needed to be shared. Arthur could also perhaps find Jon, relieve some of his thoughts, and try to garner the boy’s own opinion. _If he wants to actually speak, that is._

One of the Magister’s slaves passed him as Arthur left his room, the girl bowing her head as she passed. He watched her leave, feeling a small anger brew deep inside. The servant slaves that roamed Illyrio’s palace was one thing the knight could not grow used to. He could see the sadness in their eyes, the scars on their arms and faces, their bodies worn from the pain and labour they’d experienced their entire lives. They were suffering, and Arthur wondered at times how he could trust in a man who would use people like this. _But I don’t trust him, do I?_ Illyrio Mopatis was many things; rich, powerful, a source of many connections around the known world. But trustworthy was not one of them. However him and his friends were Arthur’s only connection to Westeros.

And Arthur couldn’t keep his promise to Lyanna without help.

  
Arthur headed to the dining room, where most of their meetings took place, Illyrio always preparing a banquet in advance, his gluttonous nature not stopping even when it was time to talk. Daenerys and Viserys were already there, sitting near the head of the table side by side; Dany as always peering down at her lap, while Viserys searched around the room, looking impatient. When he caught sight of the knight, his eyes brightened.

‘Ah, there you are! Finally. And where is that boy of yours? Illyrio has news, important news which must not go stale.’

‘I’ve sent for him, do not worry my prince.’ Illyrio said, taking a bite out of a lone apple in his hand. Ser Arthur went to sit, gazing towards the doorway he just came through, awaiting his ward.

Minutes passed, and Viserys’s impatience grew as he drummed his fingers on the oak table, one hand under his chin, eyes glued to the archway at the end of the room.

‘You’re sure you sent for him?’ He asked, for the second time.

‘Yes, my prince. Do not worry, he shall arrive soon.’

‘Well maybe we should start without him if he’s going to be late. He’s wasting all our time. There’s no use in waiting if he would treat us like this.’

The knight went to speak, to defend Jon as it was the least he could do, but Illyrio held up his hand, giving Arthur a look, before turning to Viserys. ‘We shall wait a while longer. He will need to be here, to hear of this news from Westeros. I assure you, it’s important.’

Ser Arthur could see the anger plain on the prince’s face, but he didn’t continue to argue, instead leaning back in his chair with both arms crossed, scowling. Then finally, moments later, Jon entered into the room, dark hair a shadow across his face, grey eyes scanning the room.

‘Sorry if I’m late.’ The boy said, briefing glancing at Viserys. Jon moved to sit next to the knight, then frowned, before turning to sit beside Daenerys. Arthur tried to hide the disappointment on his face, by looking over to Illyrio.

‘So what news do you have?’ Ser Arthur Dayne asked.

The Magister smiled, one hand darting into his robes before procuring a scroll, the seal broken. He unraveled it, clearing his throat before reading,

‘The dawn has started. War runs amidst these lands. The Wolf and Lion pounce at each other’s throats, and sides are being taken. Five Kings vie for power, and the Kingdoms are divided. Fire and Blood shall take them all. Fire and Blood.’ Illyrio rolled the scroll back, looking down the table.

He pondered over the words for a moment. _The Wolf and Lion? The Starks and Lannisters must be at war then._ Such news wasn’t good. _The Starks were the only alliance we could have truly counted on._

‘The Spider sent you that?’ Arthur asked, wanting to know.

The Magister titled his head to one side. ‘Does it matter who sent it to me, ser knight? What matters is that Westeros is in a state of chaos. And chaos is our best opportunity to claiming the throne. Of course after all the other kings have finished fighting, pushing the realm into a state of decay.’ Illyrio nibbled his apple to the core before placing it on his plate, now reaching for a bowl of grapes. ‘With the right alliances, and enough gold and enough men, the throne can be yours if the odds fall our way.’ His eyes flickered to Jon, a wry smile on his lips. ‘Your Grace.’

A moment passed in silence, as eyes glanced around the table, most gazing over to the prince whose face had turned bright red. And then Viserys bursted up in anger.

‘You dare insult me in front of my face!’ He pointed a finger at the Magister, who merely and calmly turned to the prince. ‘You try and claim that this boy, this wretched boy who’s soft in the head, is the rightful King? Calling him “Your Grace”!’ Viserys pushed away from the table, nearly toppling it over and started towards Jon, who was already standing. They were in each other’s faces, and Arthur got up from his chair, hand at his sword.

‘This is my war we’re fighting, boy,’ He basically spat the words, but Jon stood tall. ‘And you best remember that. You fight for me and this house, and you fight for my throne or you don’t fight at all. Find some other place to call home, you petulant little weasel. Coming and crawling into my family and trying to take what is mine.’ Viserys turned, staring daggers at Illyrio.

‘I am the last dragon. Me. Not this scrawny little boy with dark hair and grey eyes. He is no son of Rhaegar. He may be the son of some Stark slut, but by the gods if he is a Targaryen then I come from the Summer Isles. He is a fake, a fraud. And this knight,’ Viserys pointed at Arthur. ‘Is deceiving us all! All of us! Even you, you incompetent fool. You fat, oily freak! I am the ruler of the Seven Kingdoms! It is my throne! It is my birthright!’ The prince unsheathed his sword, pointing it at Jon, eyes gleaming with rage. But before he could do anything with it Arthur’s own sword was out.

The sound of steel rubbing against a scabbard was clear in the room, but before anyone could react, or even see what was happening, Dawn was arcing in the air, striking down in a flash of white.

Viserys screamed. Daenerys screamed. The prince fell to the floor, blood beginning to pump out the stump of his arm, his sword hand falling with him, the steel clattering against the hardwood.  

 

* * *

 

 

Jon and Arthur sat outside in the courtyard, inside Illyrio’s manse the shrieks of Viserys echoed through the palace, a healer at work on his arm. But soon the screams died down, as he most likely was given the Milk of the Poppy. _Or he could be dead,_ a voice whispered, but he shunned it away, staring out towards the gardens the Magister made others groom.

Jon hadn’t spoken since the incident. He didn’t look particularly upset, which was understandable, but the knight was hoping for something. He had suffered silence for too long from the boy. Arthur needed to hear him speak.

‘Are you okay?’ Were the first words out his mouth. He glanced at the boy, who was staring off into the distance, away from the world and reality. Arthur realised that may have been the first time he’d seen a man bleed, more than the small cuts he’s used to. The knight had made sure the boy didn’t seen any of the atrocities that were commonplace in the world while he was young, but grew to understand that he couldn’t keep them hidden forever. _I never expected I would be eliciting his first example however._

Arthur thought the boy might not speak, and he resigned himself to this fact. But then,

‘I’m fine. I’m fine.’ He turned to the knight, and the knight turned to him. His grey eyes were muddled, and sad, but he could see the strength behind them. ‘Thank you for your help. I don’t think...I don’t think I could have reacted in time. I saw the anger in his eyes. I know...I know if you didn’t stop him, he would have put that sword right through me.’

Arthur frowned, scratching his neck, the roughness of his beard at his fingertips. The image of Viserys’s hand being sliced, disconnected from his arm was clear and vivid in his mind. It would be an image that would haunt him forever, among many others.

‘It’s fine, Jon.’ The knight said. ‘I’m here to protect you. It’s my duty. And I wouldn’t wish any harm to come towards you. I’m not sure if Viserys would have gone through with it, and we never will be sure. But I couldn’t risk it.’

Jon glanced at him again, shaking his head. ‘Don’t try to cover up his actions. We both know he would have done it. But at least…’ Jon paused. ‘...at least he’ll never be able to hurt anyone again.’ The boy peered at the ground, eyes fixated.

 _We can only hope,_ Arthur thought, sighing and leaning back in his seat. They settled back into a silence.

‘I don’t want to be King.’ Jon broke the quiet.

Arthur sighed, knowing that this would come sooner or later. ‘Yes, I know.’

‘Do I have to be then? When I see Viserys, and what the desire to be King has done to him, I can only think that it must corrupt a man. Why should I think that I’m different?’ Jon looked at him. ‘Why do you?’

Arthur rubbed the back of his head, glancing away. When he turned back, a weight pressed down on his shoulders, a weight he’d been carrying the length of the boy’s life.

‘I’ve never told you about your father. About Rhaegar.’ Arthur shifted in his seat, but the boy’s gaze stood strong. That gave him enough confidence to continue. ‘He was the greatest man I’ve ever known. He was just and wanted to do what was right, and he had a kind heart even in the face of being heir to the Iron Throne. I see a lot of him in you, Jon. I have for a long time now. That’s why I believe in you. That’s why I know you’re different.’

Jon gazed at his feet, both hands clasped together.

They were silent for awhile, the words holding a different weight over him now. It was almost pleasing in a way. The knight had kept them locked up for so long, suffered them for all these years, that he never knew anything different.

They played the part of silence, a ward and his mentor sitting together.  

Until Jon stood, the boy’s eyes suddenly wide.

‘I should check on Dany.’ He said, a worry in his voice. ‘She’s probably in a wreck at the moment. I can’t imagine how she’s feeling.’

The knight nodded. ‘Go on then, I’ll be out here if you need me.’ A rush of guilt took him over. ‘Tell her that I’m sorry,’ Arthur glanced at the ground. ‘But I couldn’t have risked your life.’

Jon gave him a nod, and started to leave. But then stopped.

‘I’m sorry for before. For not speaking to you. It was childish, but I wanted you to see my side. But maybe if I had spoken to you, all of this wouldn’t have happened.’

‘Don’t put the blame on yourself, Jon. This is my doing, and I will face my consequences. Don’t try and face them for me.’

The boy frowned, and peered at his feet, but didn’t continue to argue.

He nodded once more. ‘Thank you, Arthur.’  The boy said, different to any thank you he had given before. And then was off, striding towards the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for you kind words! Truly, it's really amazing to see you all enjoying this story, I had never expected to get this kind of response. But anyway, just to say now so that people are too upset, but the updates for my story will be a bit longer now as I've found that if I take longer amounts of time to write and rewrite my chapters the quality goes up exponentially, and as the story is rushing towards becoming much bigger as we divulge into Westeros and all it's politics I'm going to need to keep my quality high while branching the story out even more. So at an estimate there will most likely only be two chapters a week, and If I'm really going slow one chapter. I just wanted to say this to warn you guys, but I promise to keep this story as high quality as I can so it's worth the wait! Anyway, I hope you enjoyed reading this new chapter!


	8. Daenerys III

Dany stood outside of Viserys’s room, pacing the halls, her brother’s screams still echoing in her head. _His hand. It’s...it’s gone._ The way it had fallen to the floor in the dining room, a lifeless piece of meat which would never move again, lodged inside her head, forever an image she would remember for the rest of her life.

The thought on what to do felt forever out of reach. She didn’t know why she was pacing the halls, as if she were waiting. The healer who took to Viserys’s arm, making sure it was cauterised and cleaned, had already told her that he was now asleep, whatever draught he gave to her brother knocking him out cold. But she had to be there, waiting for when he would wake. She wanted to know that he was okay. _Even though he never will be, ever again._

Dany knew he deserved it. If there was anyone in the world who deserved this type of punishment, it was Viserys. But that didn’t mean she could just look over it, pass it without a glance. Her brother had been there her entire life. He was the only family Dany had until recently. But perhaps this was his payment, for his behaviour all these years. _The gods have deemed he finally answer for everything._ Although it wasn’t the gods who smited him. It was Ser Arthur Dayne.

In her mind's eye she could see his pale milk sword slice through the air, and the expression on Viserys’s face when he caught sight of the blade; an expression of utter defeat. Dany focused on pacing, not wanting to think anymore, or imagine the gruesome scene that laid out in her imagination. And as her thoughts unravelled, down the hallway taking quick strides before seeing her, Jon appeared.

The boy stopped, perhaps noticing the expression on her face, before taking small steps towards her. _Please don’t, please don’t come here._ She didn’t want to talk to anyone, let alone Jon. He would want to face this problem head on, while she would rather keep it at the back of her mind, silently waiting her return.

Jon, however, continued his stride, and soon was close enough to talk, but he still kept a few feet back. Dany kept her gaze at the ground, rubbing one shoulder, mind going blank.

‘Is he okay?’ The boy’s words were slow, delicate, as one might pick at a scab.

Daenerys didn’t answer, staring at the ground. She didn’t want to talk to him, and in truth she wasn’t all that sure on how to answer.  

But the quiet was becoming unbearable, the pressure of an unanswered question weighing deeply on her. ‘He’ll survive.’ Was all she found she could say.

Jon nodded, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. ‘Good. That’s good.’

Silence slithered into the hallway; a suffocating quiet which felt there was no escape from. Dany hated this. This is why she often preferred talking to no one. _Why start to speak to someone, if all it brings you is the regret of starting?_

‘Look. I just wanted to say...well, Arthur wanted to tell you that he’s sorry. He didn’t want this to happen to Viserys, truly it was not his wish. But he also didn’t wish to risk my life.’ Jon hung his head, the last words barely a whisper. ‘I’m sorry that it had to end this way.’

He turned to leave, looking defeated like a man after a battle. Dany chewed on a nail, watching his back, before the urge to speak grew too much.

‘Jon,’ She called. ‘Wait.’

The boy turned, his grey eyes clear in sight.

Dany coughed, clearing her throat. ‘It’s not your fault. Don’t blame yourself, or Arthur. If there’s anyone to blame, it’s Viserys. I know I told you I didn’t want anyone to hurt him, but he went too far this time. I know that, Jon, I’m...I’m not blind.’ She took a few steps towards him, her confidence building. ‘You’re a good person, everyone knows that.’ She glanced away, thinking of their last few weeks together. ‘And you care about people, you want to do right. Don’t believe that you’re someone different.’  

They were close now, so close she could hear his breathing. It was erratic almost, no longer did he seem upset, but afraid instead. Or nervous, maybe.

He looked to struggle in his head for words, before saying, ‘Thank you, Dany. I appreciate it. But I still don’t know what to do. How to...how to make things right.’ His nervousness slipped away, and instead he seemed lost.

Daenerys said. ‘You don’t have to make anything right. What has passed has passed, we can only live with it today and move on. There’s no simple solution sometimes, Jon. That’s just the truth.’ She didn’t know where the words were coming from, but Dany knew it rang true from a place deep inside, a nestle of space where all her beliefs lived. A place she thought was lost in time.

Jon nodded, but still looked unsure. ‘What do you think is going to happen next? What will he do,’ He motioned towards Viserys’s room. ‘After he’s recovered.’

‘I don’t know. He’ll be angry, but I won’t let him do anything stupid. I’ll try to anyway. But I think it would be best if he didn’t catch sight of you for the next few days.’  

 ‘That...that makes sense. But will I…’ Jon coughed, rubbing the back of his head. ‘...be able to see you? To make sure you’re okay, of course.’

Dany smiled, feeling a strange flutter in her chest. Then she glanced at the floor, her eyebrows creasing into a frown. ‘I’m not sure. It…’ Dany found this hard to say. ‘...It might be best if you don’t see me, or at least Viserys doesn’t see you with me. He’ll only continue to get more paranoid, and stopping him from acting out will be harder.’ A pause, as she mulled over the words in her head. Her gaze kept to the ground. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No, it’s fine. I understand. It’s for the best. I guess I’ll...see you later then.’

They stood there apart, not knowing what to say. Their eyes met for a time, as they forgot themselves, but then reality reminded them of what they were doing, as from down the hall Illyrio came walking; hands behind his back, a strange smirk on his lips.

Jon turned to see what Dany was staring at, and when he caught sight of the man his cheeks went crimson, and he suddenly looked ready to leave.

‘I’ll see you soon, Jon.’ Dany said, to not elicit any further embarrassment. The boy nodded, before walking down the other way, opposite of the Magister. Illyrio watched Jon leave, but did not follow. Instead he stood in the same spot the boy had, gazing at Dany, tilting his head.

‘He came to check on you, I’m guessing?’

The girl nodded, before glancing away. ‘Yes. He wanted to know how Viserys was doing.’

‘Not well, he should know. Losing a hand is dirty business, but it had to be done. The future of this house was at stake. I’m hoping you understand that.’

Dany nodded, not knowing what to say. The man always made her feel uncomfortable, as she didn’t know what he truly wanted, and anytime they spoke it felt like a game, the Magister always in the lead.    

‘What do you think of him?’ He asked, eyes lingering down the hallway Jon had fled down. Dany turned instinctively, and when she turned back not a word came to mind to describe the boy. Only one managed to make it to her tongue.

‘He is...good.’ She said, meaning it.

Illyrio nodded. ‘Yes. He is. A good boy King. What are the chances of that?’

She frowned. ‘He isn’t King yet.’ Dany said, looking away when Illyrio gazed at her oddly.

‘No. Not yet. But you remember our conversation not so long ago, don’t you? About marriage, and the solidifying of alliances. There will be many suitors looking for your hand when Jon presses his claim. You will be ready, won’t you?’

For a moment he flashed in her mind; his dark black hair, grey stormy eyes, and his warm, bright smile. Her heart quickened at the thought. But then she realised she had left the Magister unanswered, his questioning gaze the result.

‘Yes. I...I will be.’ A lie, which was easy to see through. But Illyrio Mopatis didn’t make a comment.

‘Good. Westeros is clouded in war, my princess. And soon fire and blood shall conquer all.’

_Fire and blood,_ she thought. Viserys always talked about being a dragon, taking what was his with fire and blood. And now Illyrio pushed Jon forward to be King, the true dragon who would ride to the Seven Kingdoms and bring them to heel once more. _Will I ever be able to conquer anything with fire and blood?_ She wanted to ask.

But Daenerys already knew the answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the really short chapter, but I felt I needed to get Dany's view on the whole situation before moving forward, plus include some of her thoughts on Jon and where she stands in this upcoming war. The next chapter will be longer, already in the process of writing it, and will be featuring a new POV ;)


	9. Viserys

The room was black as night; the balcony shut, windows covered by silk curtains, candles and the fireplace extinguished. Viserys Targaryen laid on his decrepit bed, the blankets soiled in sweat, the air smelling of blood and herbal remedies that had been slathered onto his wound.

He had trapped himself in this room since the day it happened. Viserys rubbed the stump of his arm, a bandage covering the end, and winced at the pain. But he was used to it by now. More pain than anyone could ever feel. He continued to prod and poke at his lost hand, the pain overbearing at times, but he didn’t resist or stop. _I should be dead,_ the thought rang. _It would make it easier for everyone._

Milk of the poppy was not so far away, standing on his bedside counter. _Maybe if I drank_ _enough, I would be lulled into a deep, restful sleep to never wake again._ The thought of death came to him often. When his sole meaning was gone, thrown in tatters to the wind, what was the point of living? _Nobody wants me,_ he knew. _Nobody wants me to be King._

The thought hurt, but the truth often did. And in truth, he wanted to take his sword with his left hand, find the boy who produced all this mess and gut him, again and again until all that was left was blood, guts, and the boy’s dying face as he looked up in horror. _That would be a sight to behold,_ he thought with mere amusement. But there was no chance of that now. His hand was gone, any skill he had in combat gone, and the boy had a trustworthy knight, something Viserys would never have as well.

 _Why does he get it all?_ He wondered desperately, rolling to his back, staring up at the ceiling. _Why the bloody hell does he get to have it all? The Gods play cruel jokes, and their cruelest is me._ Viserys wanted to sink into the darkness that surrounded him, but the Gods wouldn’t let him have that either.

No, he was left to suffer, in silence and alone.

Even Daenerys didn’t come visit him, not after the first time where he shouted at her to leave. _She’s most likely sucking the cock of that boy King by now._ An anger burned deep in his belly, the dragon he so threatened to wake crawled through his veins and made him burn. _But there is no dragon. Only a little boy, trying to fight for his family’s house._ That’s all Viserys had been trying to do since leaving Westeros. Fight for his family’s throne. _Now I can fight for no one._

There was a knock at the door, and Viserys turned his head, gazing at it as one might gaze at a dwarf or a man riding an elephant. It didn’t seem real, a part of him believing that it was a hallucination, or a vivid dream he was projecting. But when the knock came once more, he accepted it’s part in reality, and turned away, clutching his stump close.

The door opened in the end, without his command or acceptance, and Viserys kept in his curled ball in the bed, staring into the darkness which was now interrupted by the light from the hallway.

‘My young prince,’ The smooth words of the Magister called out, and another leap of anger bounded into his chest, his heart beating like he’d just entered a battle. ‘I hope you are doing well.’

Viserys didn’t answer, staying in his position, not turning towards the monstrously fat, silk clothed man who made him want to gag with each second he had to look at him.   

‘Silent, are we? I would have thought you would enjoy the company, after such a long respite.’

Viserys kept quiet, the man at his back. He wanted to yell and shout at the idiot to leave, but Viserys knew it would only prod the man into continuing his torment.

‘Fine. You do not have to speak. I only wished to tell you that the young King is moving towards Westeros, to broker an alliance with the North. They’re currently at war with the Lannisters, who hold the throne if you did not know. Maybe they wish the same as us, and desire a change in leadership. We’ll be sending a few hundred sellswords with them, to make sure the King is well protected. I only ask, do you wish to see him off, Viserys? The future of your dynasty awaits after all.’

‘The future of _his_ dynasty.’ Viserys hissed, turning.

The Magister didn’t looked stunned, only amused. He picked an apple up from a fruit bowl, before saying, ‘Yes, well. It is your house as well. You are his uncle. There will be a great place for you once all is said and done, don’t you think?’

‘The only place I want is the one where everyone kneels, and take my commands like the dogs they are.’  

A wry grin played at the Magister’s lips. ‘I’m sorry to say that such a place will never be yours. Not even after Westeros has aged and crumbled in neglect, and the sun and stars have all but extinguished. It’s a truth you must live with, Viserys. A truth you must learn, if you hope to survive.’ Illyrio Mopatis said no more, chewing at his apple in simple bites before leaving the room, sandals slapping against the marble floor.

As the door creaked to a close, the room growing black once more, Viserys closed his eyes, one hand gripping the bed sheets that sprawled over him. _Why would I want to survive, if all that I have is this?_

 

* * *

 

Another visitor came a few days later. At first he thought maybe it was Dany, the slut finally crawling back after playing with her little black haired Targaryen. But instead, when he turned in his bed, groggy from the potions and draughts he had to consume over the week, he saw the little shit himself, standing in plated armor, newly forged by the looks of it.

Viserys went to rise, hand gripped into a fist, stomach burning with rage, but when he tried his strength fleeted in but a moment, and he fell back to the bed.

‘What do you want!’ He hissed at the boy, staring daggers at him as he only stood there, face solemn, hands by his side. Jon didn’t approach any closer, standing a few feet away from the bed.

‘I...I only wanted to speak.’

‘Then go speak your words to somebody who would bother to care, you impudent shit. You think you can just do whatever you want, don’t you? Just cause all those other fools and idiots think you're some kind of King, doesn’t mean I do too.’ Viserys’s words felt slurred, he hadn’t spoken in so long, and the poppy was affecting his mind. He wanted to yell and screech, but his body didn’t allow it. _Just another thing he’s taken from me._

The boy stayed silent awhile longer, brooding over whatever he wanted to say. Viserys turned in his bed, putting his back to him, not wanting to see the little bastard’s face anymore.    

‘I wanted to say that I’m sorry,’ Jon pushed on, somehow ignoring all of his signals that he simply did not care. ‘And I know that words will not be able to accomplish any type of peace between us, but I hope this will...

‘The Magister,’ The boy continued. ‘He gave me a parting gift before we set sail for Westeros. I...I wanted you to have a part of it.’ The boy rested something heavy on the table, which made a small thump when left. Viserys didn’t turn to see, spiting the boy at every possible moment. ‘I hope you get better, Viserys. I shall see you when we come back.’

 _If you come back,_ he wanted to say. _I hope your ship crashes into a sea of hidden rocks, crushing you and everyone who wishes to serve you, you smug fool._

The boy’s plate armor rustled, a whisper of metal, as he left, the door closing behind him. When the room was dark, and all Viserys could see was black, he tried inspecting what the boy had left behind on the table, but found nothing. _Stupid boy,_ he thought. _He should have left a candle._ Viserys struggled off the bed, sliding both feet onto the cool marble floor, using any reserved strength he had to make it to the table only meters away.

When his hands met the gift, he frowned. It was a scaled, round object which he peered at in the darkness but couldn’t make out any details besides the outline of it’s shape. He moved towards the windows, struggling with each step, before drawing back the curtains with his stump, the light outside shining in. Viserys stared at the gift in his hand, eyes wide. _No. He couldn’t have. How...how?_

In his hand sat a dragon’s egg, colored pale cream, streaked with gold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooooo, sorry once more for the short chapter :(  
> But I promise these short chapters are only making way for the longer and more developed pieces I'll be creating as we move on to Westeros! I just didn't want to leave characters behind without getting there say in, and also developing them in the way I want. Everyone seems to be wondering if Drogo will be in this fic, and don't worry he won't be :D  
> I just don't think it would make any sense for my story and of course Jon and Dany coming together, although she may find suitors trying to win her hand in Westeros after some time...  
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this one! I really enjoyed getting into Viserys's mind, and seeing how he thinks. There will most definitely be more Viserys chapters later on, for all those who love to hate him (like me).   
> Also thank you all for your kind words, I'm glad most of you are enjoying it!


	10. Arthur III

Two hundred sellswords had arrived the other day, only fifty now roaming the palace courtyard, the others already down by the docks filling three ships worth of space. The Magister saw it fit that a few sellswords stay behind, to guard Jon as he would eventually make his way down the streets of Pentos. News had begun to spread of him through the city as soon as Illyrio had accepted them those weeks past, the lips of those in his service obviously loose, the rumors floating in the air without anyone to stop them.

_Soon, the whole continent of Westeros will know,_ he wagered a guess, scratching his beard at the solemn thought. Arthur was hoping to be quiet about this whole thing, make their way across the Narrow Sea without any unwanted attention. But now, anyone might know of Jon’s existence, putting his safety and the safety of the rest of his family in danger. That is why Illyrio and Arthur talked plans on what to do with Dany and Viserys, and while at first it may have been possible to bring Daenerys along with them, now it seemed no longer a choice.

The conversation with Daenerys was thought to be met with resistance, but she was more willing than Arthur assumed. She still seemed upset, but was willing to perform her duty.

‘I understand, Arthur. It would have been nice to see Westeros, but I know it won’t be safe. I’ll try and take care of Viserys while you’re gone. And Arthur, please keep...please keep Jon safe, if you can.’

The knight smiled. ‘I would give my life to save him, don’t you worry. And there’s not many a man in Westeros who have the ability to strike me down. He’ll be safe, I give you my word.’

The girl smiled at him, content with the answer. Since then he’d seen Jon and her spending much time together, traveling through the courtyards of the palace, partaking in long walks through the gardens. However the last day they were planned to leave, the two rarely got the chance to see one another, as Viserys had come out of his cocoon, hair in a tangled mess, a rough beard growing at his jaw, a sling around his stump. Arthur could barely watch the boy at times, knowing that it was because of him that he was in this state. Viserys wasn't a good man by any means, but Arthur had sworn to protect the Targaryens. _Not to go butchering their arms off._

Dealing with these guilty thoughts, and the management of their departure were tough on the knight. There were many sleepless nights where he wrestled in bed, and wrestled with his mind on his sense of honor and the vows he had sworn to uphold. He found a way over these thoughts however by focusing on one vow that had changed the course of his entire life.

And that was protecting Jon, and seating him on the Iron Throne.

The boy had grown anxious in the last few days before their departure, always biting his nails, or brooding whenever he got the chance. Arthur tried to steel his nerves by telling him stories of the many houses that were in the North, and of what they were to expect after sailing and landing in White Harbor.

‘Many a man will not believe us, Jon,’ The knight told the boy. ‘And those who do may not pay us with kindness. There are those in the North who believe your mother was kidnapped by your father. There are not many Targaryen loyalists among the Northern lords.’

‘Then why sail there?’ Jon asked, an edge in his voice.

‘Because your mother’s house rules Winterfell. The other lords may not believe us, or may bring us harm which is why we shall keep you a secret, but if we can convince the Starks that you are of their blood, then they might fight for you, and your throne.’

‘But are they not already at war? Illyrio was saying that they’re attacking the Lannisters in retaliation for the execution of their Lord Protector. Why would they help us, especially if they might doubt us?’

‘Stark blood runs through your veins, Jon. Everyone will not be able to doubt your look. I can hazard a guess you might look more Stark than some of the children that reign in Winterfell now. And I’m evidence towards your legitimacy as well, don’t forget. All those in Westeros have long since believed I was dead, and if I tell the Starks our story they will know of my honor, and know that I would not readily lie to them. Try not to worry. They won’t shun you, and they won’t shun us away from their gates. We’ll have a place in Winterfell, I’m sure. But forging an alliance...now that is where my skills fail me…’  

Jon frowned. ‘Then what will we do?’

Arthur let out a sigh. ‘Illyrio and his Spider should help us with that. And if not, then it will fall to us to make something happen.’

The boy did not ask many questions after that, but Arthur knew he had done little to abate his worries. _Once we’re there, once we’re inside the gates of Winterfell, he’ll understand._ But it was on the day that they were meant to leave that Jon looked the most worried. And Arthur knew it wasn’t solely because of their imminent journey.  

‘I’m going to have to leave her alone again,’ Jon explained, thumbing the pummel of his sword as they stood out in the courtyard, their sellswords standing around not doing or saying much. ‘With _him_ no less. I visited him, you know. I gave him a part of Illyrio’s gift.’

Arthur frowned. ‘A dragon egg? But why?’

Jon shrugged. ‘It was a peace offering, a way of showing him that even with all that has happened, that I don’t wish any ill towards him. But I don’t think it worked.’

Arthur scratched his beard. ‘Viserys doesn’t seem like one to give up a grudge so quickly. Give it time. Maybe when we come back…’

‘Yes, yes. Maybe. We’ll just have to see.’ Jon glanced away for a moment. ‘I also...I gave Dany one.’

Arthur raised his eyebrows. ‘And why did you do that?’ He asked, already knowing the answer.

‘I felt it was only right. Three Targaryen left in the world alongside three of the possibly last dragon eggs. It was the best thing to do, I think.’

‘Is that the only reason you gave the princess a gift? Or do you have other plans lurking in your mind?’ The knight laughed, and Jon blushed, cheeks turning crimson.

‘What is so funny, my dearest companions?’ Illyrio was suddenly there, coming up from behind them and joining their little circle. The two instantly reformed their facades,.

‘Oh, nothing.’ The knight said. ‘Just an old joke we used to tell each other through the years.’

‘Hmm, sounds quite amusing. Your grace,’ The Magister’s eyes darted to Jon. ‘If you're able, I would like to have a word with you before you depart. It will only take a moment.’

The boy’s eyes glanced at Arthur for a moment, who nodded in turn, before he followed Illyrio off, walking cross the courtyard towards the balcony. The knight watched the exchange, wondering what the Magister was trying to implant into the boy’s head, and could see the frustration showing plain on Jon’s face as the man talked. In the end it did only take a moment, as Jon was walking back in a short time, the Magister looking somewhat disappointed.

‘What did he want?’ Arthur asked once he was close.

‘He asked to come again, on our journey West. He said that he will be able to give us good counsel there, and that he would be an available asset while we try to find allies. But I told him he had to stay here, to make sure Dany will be alright. I made him vow that he will keep her safe, and that was that. So…’ Jon paused. ‘When do we leave?’

‘Soon. Our ships are still being readied for sail, and we’ve sent men through the streets to see if there’s anyone planning to make a fuss once we start our descent towards the harbor. You should spend your time with Daenerys, while you can. You may not see her for awhile yet.’

Jon rubbed the back of his head, glancing away. ‘No. That’s alright. I’ll just see her before we depart.’

Arthur smiled, but didn’t push the boy further. He remembered his first time in love. It was with a servant girl, when he was young. He reacted in the same way as Jon did now; acting shy, rather dreaming of and watching her from afar than to make real strides in speaking with her. _And now I’m a Knight of the Kingsguard, love forever lost to me._ The fact hurt bitter sometimes, but he had made a vow long ago, and he wasn’t going to break it for anyone.

Time passed, and the men they sent to scour the city had returned, with nothing concerning to report. Arthur got his things, a bag full of warm clothing and furs for the trek ahead, and he saw Jon finally speak with Dany, cheeks turning red, eyes glancing away every so often. As he passed them he heard the girl say,  

‘Thank you, for your gift. I know it will never hatch, but it’s beautiful.’

‘Don’t worry, you deserve to have it. I’ll bring you a gift from Westeros as well. I’ll make sure it’s something good.’ Jon said.

The girl smiled. ‘Thank you, Jon.' She paused, eyes peering at her feet. 'I’m...I’m going to miss you.’

Somehow the boy’s cheeks went more crimson, and he nearly turned away. Arthur barely kept in his laugh, trying to hide it by observing a few nearby sellswords.

‘Yes, well, thank you. I’ll be back soon. Um...try to keep safe.’

Dany nodded, looking more amused than ever, but Arthur could see her cheeks blush. ‘Of course. Until we see each other again.’

The boy finally managed to turn towards her, and a smile came to his lips. ‘Until we see each other again.’

Arthur went ahead, calling the sellswords into formation, seeing that the Magister was watching, something close to a scowl on his face wrapped in a forced smile. _Some days, I wish I knew what was going on inside that man’s head._

As the column of men formed Jon joined his side, a bag of his own at his side, a sword encircled around his waist. They both said their farewells to Illyrio Mopatis, who gave them a brief wave, alongside a courtesy smile. But as they prepared to depart, sellswords all at their sides, a sentry at the gate had come running past, heading towards Illyrio who stood on the palace steps.

‘Master, there is an old knight at the gates. He says he’s Westerosi, and that he wishes to serve the rightful King.’

Arthur watched the scene, seeing the Magister frown. ‘Did he say who he is? What does he look like?’

The Unsullied guard nodded. ‘He has white hair, and is dressed like a beggar. He may be trying to play a trick, I do not know. Should I send him away Master? All he told me was those that know him call him “The Bold”.’

Arthur’s eyes widened, his heart suddenly racing in his chest, and in an instant he pushed himself out the column, scampering towards the gates. The knight couldn’t believe what he was hearing, and he didn’t think it was true until he saw him.

There, outside the palace, besides one Unsullied soldier who was keeping guard, was Ser Barristan Selmy, wearing a hooded woolen garb, white hair hanging to his shoulders. When the two knight’s eyes met, they couldn’t help but smile.

‘Barristan! You old fool!’ They moved into a hug, both laughing.

‘This can’t be true! Arthur? How are you here? I thought you were dead.’ Barristan said, stepping back to get a good look at the knight.

Arthur cracked a grin. ‘So does everyone else in Westeros. And there’s a reason.’

The old man nodded, eyes squinting in the sun. ‘I know. At least, I've heard the tales, but I did not think them to be true. Is the boy safe?’

‘Safe as he ever could be. But how do you know of him? We’ve been trying to keep his existence a secret.’

The old knight frowned. ‘There were rumors, sprouting up all across Westeros. At first I thought they were only old wives tales to make the commonfolk focus on something other than the war. But it began to spread everywhere; at every inn there was at least one conversation talking about the last remaining Targaryen dynasty holding up in the free cities. After some time, I had to find out if it was true.’

Arthur shook his head, glancing at the ground. _Damn it, just as I feared._ He looked back up at his old friend. ‘But why are you here, Selmy? You’re Kingsguard, that was your life.’

‘And I still am, if you’ll let me. Joffery, the boy King who sits on the Iron Throne, threw me from his service. He talked of me being too frail and old, and that I was no longer fit to protect him. But now I thank such an act, because if he didn’t I would still be serving a King who doesn’t deserve the throne he sits on. The years have been hard and unkind since Rhaegar lost on the trident. That is why I am here, to find my true king, and die in his service.’

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder, smiling. ‘Let me introduce you to him then.’

They walked back to the palace courtyard, the sellswords watching, before approaching Jon who had moved up further to see what was going on. When Barristan caught sight of the boy he kneeled, taking his sword out and placing it at his feet.

‘My King. I pledge my sword to you, to this day until my death. I will fight for you, give my life for you, and forever be sworn to you. I swear it, by the old gods and the new.’

Jon eyed Arthur with a plain face of confusion, and the knight tried to not be too amused. He nodded at the boy, so Jon looked back down at Barristan Selmy, saying,

‘Thank you. But...I do not know your name. Who are you?’    

‘My name is Ser Barristan Selmy, your grace. I was Kingsguard to your family not so long ago, and I swore to protect your father and his father before him. And now that they are gone, I swear now to protect you, no matter the cost.’

The boy looked intrigued, eyes widening. ‘You knew my father?’

Barristan nodded. ‘Prince Rhaegar was a good friend of mine. We spent many years together, and we fought alongside one another on the trident. However I was not able to save him that day. I will not fail again, I promise you, your grace.’

‘We’re just about to leave.’ Arthur put in. ‘I’m sorry to say you’ll be traveling to Westeros all over again.’

The old knight’s smile was warm. ‘That’s fine. I can handle ships and travel. My heart is put at rest now knowing that I am no longer sullying my honor. Where are we headed?’

‘The North. We hope to secure an alliance with them. Now with you, we’ll have an even better chance. No one could question your honor, and you’re known throughout the Seven Kingdoms.’

‘Whatever I may do to help, I will do it.’ Barristan turned to Jon, who was standing awkwardly not knowing what to do or say, glancing between the two knights nervously. ‘Your grace, whatever you ask of me, it shall be done.’  

Jon was not used to this bold display of loyalty, so he glanced away. ‘Thank you. Again.’  

Arthur saw Barristan’s eyes move towards the palace steps, where the Magister, Viserys and Dany stood, all with unsure expressions. The knight’s glance lingered on Viserys’s stump, Arthur noticed.

_A story for another time and place._

‘You should leave soon, your grace.’ Illyrio Mopatis called from the steps. ‘Your ships await.’

Jon nodded stiffly, regarding the two knights before him. Ser Barristan bowed his head, and turned forward, besides the boy. Arthur moved to his place beside Jon as well, calling out to the sellswords at his command,

‘Alright men, if there’s any trouble as we move through the city make sure to deal with it swiftly and smoothly. Now, forward on!’

And so, the true King of Westeros made his way out of Magister Illyrio’s palace gates, alongside two renown knights who would do anything in their power to keep the boy safe.

_I just hope we’re enough,_ Arthur thought, as they marched towards the docks.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait, but it's a long chapter this time, so I hope that makes up for it! Hope you all enjoy Barristan being added to the story, I only thought it was right that he was added as I always enjoyed his character in the books and show and I think it would make for some interesting scenes between him and Jon when discussing Rhaegar. I found it a bit hard to get his character down in this first chapter, so Barristan may seem a little off, but I promise to work hard on being able to forge him better into the story later! Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter!


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